


All a Circle

by btvsp2082



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 08:44:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2263254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/btvsp2082/pseuds/btvsp2082
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>S6/S7/Post-Series, but Pre-Comics. Eight months after "Chosen," things are up and running in England, when someone returns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> New to the site, but not a new work. I figured I'd start putting my completed stories on here, and maybe, possibly, that might inspire me to finish the ones that aren't. Hope you like it, and obviously, none of these characters are mine. :-)

|-Bath, England, Present-|

 

Everything had come together fast. So fast, that Buffy was still getting used to weather actually changing. In eight months she'd gone from the crater that was Sunnydale, to the snow-covered, English countryside, co-running "Slayer Central." Due primarily to Giles' connections, as well as his--and the old Council's--deep wallet, they were an established operation.

She went to the stable whenever she wanted a break from it all; horses didn’t talk back, and were easy to please. Brushing them, feeding them...it was peaceful. This was where she also let herself remember the one person who should've been a part of what she'd started, but wasn't. Because of a goddamn, stray bullet. Without that person, where would she be? Certainly not here.

She hung up the brush with a sigh and walked outside, hands protected from winter’s chill by her pockets. Still with some amount of awe, she took in all that was theirs. Training facilities, offices, dormitories, and a library--blew her mind. What kept her grounded was having a house close by with Willow, Xander, Dawn, and Kennedy. When everyone was there, things didn't seem so overwhelming. It seemed like nothing had changed at all.

No one was there as often as they wanted, though. Each of them had responsibilities, traveled the world. But having a home waiting made all the difference. Their lives were no less dangerous, yet Buffy had to admit, it was a good life overall.

There were days she wished the fate of many wasn't in their hands, but she wanted to do right by these girls, which meant doing things different. Giving every member of the gang a say. Even Kennedy. Faith, when she took a break from her nomadic existence, added her piece as well.

Buffy put Xander in charge of tactics and strategy; Willow, all things mystical and magical; Dawn, research (she was turning into quite the fount of knowledge); Kennedy was second-in-command when it came to new slayers; and, Faith? Faith got to administer "final exams" in the field. Buffy left the day-to-day, behind the scenes stuff to Giles. She sure as hell didn't want to deal with that headache.

She tended to be a bit of an ambassador, but what she lived for was taking a group on their first mission. Every slayer who (voluntarily) agreed to join their team had been led into battle by her. She never got tired of seeing their faces after they'd saved someone's life, or simply worked together to win and survive. There was no other feeling like it.

"'Cuse me, Ma'am?"

One of them ran up to her now, intruding on her solitary. Buffy shook her head at how she was addressed. "You really have to stop calling me that, Nadia. The ‘You’ who’s everybody."

She was nowhere near that old.

"Sorry, Ma'a...um, Buffy," Nadia hastily corrected in her Russian accent. "But Mr. Xander, Willow, Miss Kennedy and Dawn...they-they are all in Mr. Giles' office. I'm supposed to come get you."

Buffy furrowed her brow. "What's going on?"

"I don't know, but I believe they were crying."

 

_______

 

Giles had two offices in one. A large, outer office where he met with bigwigs of both human and demon variety, held meetings, etcetera, etcetera. Then there was the cozier, more intimate one where he would read and drink his tea in peace and quiet.

No one was in the larger when Buffy entered, so she went to the other door and knocked. He let her in with a welcoming smile. Walking past, she returned it, uncertain.

Candlelight burned on her watcher's desk, which was against the wall immediately to her right. Xander sat there, but faced the couch, wiping at his eye. In the far left corner, Willow and Kennedy were seated on the soft, high-backed arm chair. Willow was clearly teary. Buffy's eyes swept over the stocked bookshelf next to them before finally looking to the couch.

She moved closer, and her breath caught in her throat. Her sister was there, clinging to an arm. An arm belonging to someone they'd all believed gone. Buffy automatically ran through a checklist in her head:

 

_'Dawn's touching her. Not the First.'_

_'She's breathing, isn't pale...not a vampire.'_

_'Which means...'_

 

"Tara?" Buffy questioned whisperingly, afraid to break the illusion.

Tara stood, Dawn reluctantly freeing her. "You let your hair grow." She smiled her smile. "You look so healthy, too...oh, sweetie, I'm proud of you."

Buffy bit her lower lip to stop it trembling. "Please be you."

Tara made the first move, wrapping arms around her friend. "So far."

Buffy's arms instantly wrapped around Tara in kind, and the flood began. Tears she didn't even know she had in her, she wept. Didn't want to let go.

And what did she think? She thought Tara was warm. She thought Tara was alive.

 

_______

 

|-Sunnydale, January 2002-|

 

Buffy's choked sobs rang loud despite being muffled by Tara’s lap, where her head laid. Sitting on the couch, Tara thought about how the otherwise silent, empty, dimly lit living room--like every room in the house lately--wasn't warm anymore. Maybe it was as lost as the rest of them.

Yet even with everything trapped in a seemingly endless spiral, Tara had somehow been able to find positives within herself. And currently, within Buffy.

Realizing the inevitability of Buffy's collapse now, she felt grateful to be here. Because while this broke her heart, Buffy was finally letting all that pain pour out. Crying meant Buffy could feel, did feel, and was very much human. Though Tara doubted she saw it that way.

Still rubbing Buffy's shortened locks comfortingly, she softly spoke, "Buffy? Buffy, sweetie, look at me."

From the floor, Buffy lifted her head, eyes shimmering and puffy. Tara had never seen her so vulnerable. In fact, she’d only seen her cry once before, when Riley left town.

She’d learned from Willow how rare an occurrence it was...and Willow was Buffy‘s best friend. Bottling things until you have an emotional meltdown hardly seemed healthy, but that was pretty much Buffy’s M.O.

It wasn't that they made a habit of discussing her behind her back, but all of the Scoobies knew their leader closed off, distanced herself. That practice had become more frequent with each passing year, as life and slaying continually took a toll. No matter what they did to help, nothing changed. It was frustrating and sad.

This moment had to be the worst. Buffy’s abrupt exit from a heavenly dimension, being resurrected by friends she didn’t feel able to turn to, frantically clawing out an escape from her own grave, having to raise her sister without their mother, Giles leaving, her best friend nearly getting her sister killed, discovering Spike could hit her, thinking she'd come back wrong, using him for sex...it all led to this moment, to the release she could no longer contain.

Again, one that was inevitable. Necessary. Except Tara was allowed to be a witness. And because she could count on one hand the number of times Buffy revealed her vulnerability, that she wasn't always the rock that could weather anything, Tara also felt honored.

This might have been Buffy’s worst point, her lowest, but now she could start climbing. Feeling her waist clung to suddenly, Tara knew she'd be steadying the rope a while. She didn't mind.

Placing her hands on Buffy's arms, she silently urged her up, off her knees. Buffy rose just enough to quickly sit beside Tara, and embrace her apprehensively. Tara’s hug back was not; it was strong, secure. Slowly, Buffy's breaths turned steady and shuddering, and Tara smiled.

She wanted Buffy to feel safe. She wanted her to feel nothing other than good energy; exactly the opposite of what Spike offered. She wished it could be enough. That when she left, Buffy would be all better. But it wasn't that easy.

"It's all right to need someone. To let go. Even just once in a while," whispered Tara reassuringly. "And nobody should ever be alone if they don't have to be...including you. So don't feel ashamed, okay? Because I st- still think you're pretty amazing."

She blushed while Buffy's muscles relaxed. That small embarrassment was worth it, then. "I'm...I'm glad I'm here; thanks for trusting me."

"Why wouldn't I? You're the most non-judgmental person I know." Buffy was beginning to smile, releasing and looking at her friend. "It's weird, because we don't actually hang out much, do we?

“Except, if it was Willow or Xander...wouldn't have gotten this far. I don't think I could've. Admitted this to them, I mean. Guess I should be able to, but I can't."

Wiping her eyes, she took a deep, cleansing breath. "Anyway...I really am trying to say something pretty specifically. Something like, I'm glad you’re here, too. And yunno, I'm thinking we should hang out more often, starting now. S' long overdue."

Tara smiled back in return. "I'd like that."

"Some friend, huh?" Buffy smirked, shaking her head. "Here I am dumping all my stuff on you, and I haven't even asked how you're doin’. Sorry. 'Rude Buffy's' outta the building. 'Polite Buffy's' asking if you want something to drink, and then if she oughta mind her own business."

"No apologizing," ordered Tara, but cracked another smile.

She saw that Buffy was away from the dark place for the time being, and would let her set the pace.

"But if you're sure you're up to it...is there still hot chocolate in the cabinet?"

"I dunno. Let's check. Could always use more warming," Buffy admitted.

The girls got off the couch, and Buffy subconsciously brushed her fingers over Tara's before they began walking to the kitchen.

"Definitely up to it, though--not a hundred percent sure about tomorrow, but tonight? I'm good. Or at least all cried out...I think."

 

_______

 

"Aha," remarked Buffy as she pulled an unopened box from the cabinet above-left of the sink. "Consider your question answered--powdered cocoa beans? We're stocked with 'em. And they come in handy packets. You still want, right?"

She turned to Tara, who was heading for the fridge. "Sit." She gestured to the island, and then broke the box's seal. "Hot chocolate's one of the few things I know how to make without the kitchen going 'boom.'"

Tara opened the refrigerator. "You're too late; I'm already here."

She rooted around inside while Buffy got a smallish-sized pot from one of the lower cabinets.

"Ouch, now my arm's twisted," Buffy grinned as she thwacked two packets of cocoa mix against her thigh several times while waiting for the milk. "Help. Go nuts."

Then she remembered how Tara _had_ gone nuts not too long ago, and sighed.

"Foot comes out of mouth," Having set the packets on the counter, she pantomimed her words, "and even though she wants to apologize a crazy number of times for that thing she never said--"

Milk and cream in both hands, Tara gave her a look as she walked over.

"--she shuts up instead."

"Good," Tara said, placing her items down on the counter beside the packets. "Because I wasn't even thinking about Glory; it's been m-m-months since I have."

Closing her eyes, she breathed in, and calmed herself. "And usually, if I do?"

"Like now?” Buffy asked. “‘Cause I've got guilt issues and couldn't just quit?"

"If I do," Tara gave her that look again, "I don't...fall apart anymore. Took a long time."

As much as she was going through, Buffy wasn't arrogant enough to believe that her pain was on the level of someone who'd spent what must have felt like an eternity in a dark, empty void searching for a way out.

There was a sad smile on Tara's face. "Willow w-would always..."

Buffy could tell Tara was annoyed with herself. She stuttered and stumbled over things she believed were dealt with. Awfully fast, too. But that didn't change the fact that Buffy had seen a very confident, assured woman walk into the house.

A woman who finally seemed comfortable in her own skin. More comfortable than she, at any rate. It was probably a giant reason why defenses were lowered back there--because Buffy knew Tara could withstand it. But like everybody, the woman next to her was still a work in progress. And by trying to rush it, by corking her emotions...

...Tara wasn't following her own advice. The unresolved issue of a redhead (despite breaking up two months ago) couldn’t have been helping. Nor feeling like she had to separate herself from people she called family.

Whatever the reason, if she was holding back to spare Buffy, that was just silly.

"She really hurt you." Buffy was not asking a question.

As much as she wanted to help her best friend, Willow didn't make it easy to sympathize.

"Do you miss her at all?"

Tara was silent only briefly, considering her response. "I miss how she used to make me feel."

"I get that."

Buffy wasn't kidding. There were two periods in her life where she could identify--back with Angel when she was eighteen, and most recently now. She missed how being alive used to make her feel. Interlocking digits, it was her turn to let Tara know it was okay.

"Uh, shouldn't we finish making...?" Tara trailed off, self-conscious.

"Right," Buffy said, still gripping her hand. "Then we can go sit and--"

"Talk?"

"Right." Releasing Tara’s hand, Buffy cleared her throat, concentrating on the task ahead. "Oh, is there whipped cream? And cinnamon?"

 

_______

 

"Are you attractive?" Buffy asked after careful consideration.

"Mm, I guess?" Tara sounded uncertain. "I mean, I wouldn't go out with them, but..."

Her eyebrows rose. "You really think he's attractive?"

Around a half an hour later, they were in the dining room drinking mugs of hot chocolate, and playing Guess Who? The game involved an exaggerated assortment of male and female characters on two, separate boards. It asked players to guess which character their opponent had picked at the beginning of the game.

Flicking the male characters down she deemed unattractive, Buffy hesitantly answered, "Probably, yeah. You know, compared to the other people..."

Though Tara smirked good-naturedly, Buffy was embarrassed nonetheless. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.

"Like you didn't gawk at Jessica Rabbit. And hey, she didn't even have a nose."

"No," agreed Tara, trying to hold back a shy grin, "but that wasn't so bad. And she made up for it, um, elsewhere." Then she took her turn as Buffy chuckled. "Do you wear glasses?"

"Sorry, not so much," said Buffy, before taking a sip from her mug while the non-glass wearers were flicked down across the table. "Just keeps my 'Poor Guy Choice' streak alive, I guess. Gotta say, wouldn't mind if it dried up."

Her fingers tapped the side of the mug for a few moments. "You think Spike loves me? Meaning sincerely?" She chewed on her lip thoughtfully before also posing, "And d'you have a hat on?"

Tara double-checked her character's card and shook her head in answer to that last question. "I think he tries to. Except it isn't, exactly pure love."

She was glad Dawn was at a sleepover and that Willow was crashing at UC Sunnydale's library tonight, trying to catch up on her assignments. If they were here, this conversation couldn’t happen.

"Because he doesn't have a soul. And he's a vampire," said Buffy, mulling over things. "But it's in him somewhere? ‘Cause, wasn’t the impression I got."

"Maybe you didn't wanna notice," Tara said, bringing the mug to her lips and sensing that the game was on hold. "Last year, it seemed like he wanted to be the kind of person he thought you'd respect."

"And fall for? I noticed,” replied Buffy. “Only, most of the time he was playing stalker and stealing my clothes for his psychotic, underground ode to all that is me. Or whoever he wishes I was--enter 'Robo Buffy.'"

She was still unsettled about that. "Spike having his own, personal sex toy was disgusting enough, but adding the 'way too chipper' factor? Whole new level of creepy."

Both silently realized that if the robot had survived, Spike would no longer have need for it. Buffy now fulfilled its role. She even _felt_ robotic these days. As in, not human.

"I meant..." Tara started to explain better, but the will left her, because frankly, her side wasn't holding up well. "Never mind. I'm probably...probably wrong."

"You aren't, Tara. I'm just...focusing on the non-pure, I know that."

Buffy said that for Tara's sake, not because she accepted the parts of Spike which were non-non-pure.

"But him suddenly being emotionally schitzo when he's supposed to just be regular, old evil doesn't change the fact that I can't love him."

"Do you want to?"

"What? No," denied Buffy a touch too fast. "Even if he had a soul I'd..."

She heaved a large sigh, unable to turn down the idea flat.

"...rather not go there. But, seeing him, it's never about love; it isn't even about the part where we actually have sex, ‘cause during, I'm numb. Didn't start out that way, only like everything else in my life lately, whatever I felt wore off fast."

"Then why?" asked a hesitant Tara.

Ashamed, Buffy lowered her head already. "Violence tends to, uh, happen a lot with us. Especially before...if-if we're alone."

Tara reached across the table, laid an encouraging hand on her forearm, and she felt warmth again. Looking up, Buffy was met with saddened but understanding eyes.

"He'll tell me how I don't belong around people,” she continued. “And that's somehow the perfect reason for why I should hide in the dark instead. With him. Then, because I don't wanna believe what he's saying, I'll get angry and we beat the hell out of each other.

"After we're…done, I kind of hurt everywhere. It lasts a-a couple days, but once they're over there's nothing, and--"

"Spike's there," Tara finished.

It was clear that while Buffy might've been using him, he wasn't innocent in this. He was trying to break her mentally, which Tara found far more horrible--she had firsthand experience with that kind of abuse. Multiple experiences.

"Pain's generally the one thing I can count on; reminds me I'm still breathing," revealed Buffy.

She knew Tara was searching for words that weren't there, so with hands shaking just enough to draw attention to themselves, she finished her hot chocolate in a single gulp and tried to remember where the game had left off.

"Please let it be your turn."

Her eyes did little to conceal how much she hoped it was.

 

_______

 

Though it'd been her turn to guess, it was also Tara's turn to talk, Buffy being understandably exhausted. As she started summarizing life post-Willow and packing the game in its box, Buffy leisurely took their mugs to the dishwasher. Tara was grateful.

Getting this part out was easier if she didn't have to fear eye contact.

Only when Buffy returned into the dining room did she reply to what she'd heard. "Really? You're dating? Like, how exclusively? Very? Not so very?"

Leaning against the adjoining entranceway, she seemed mildly surprised, but not upset.

"Oh, not." Tara was quick to shake her head. "May-maybe I shouldn't have said 'dating.' It's more just...getting to know people. In, um, public places."

"Are drinks and/or food involved?"

"Well, s-sometimes there's coffee?"

All right, so it did bear a strong resemblance to "dating." Realizing, Tara smiled unsurely.

Buffy smiled too as she came further in and took the box off the table. "You're just fishing--it's allowed." She continued into the living room. "More than. It's required."

"'Fishing'?"

Tara hadn't ever fished before; she'd only watched her father and brother. Though she highly doubted that Buffy (who was sliding the game underneath the couch) meant literally.

"Yeah...where you water-test and find out who your options are. Then after a few practice casts, you see if one of 'em wants to bite. Or maybe nibble." Buffy was on her way back into the dining room as the suggestive nature of her words hit. "Nibble your lure, I mean."

She reddened. "Wow. Kinda spiraled. I swear it was gonna be clean for the whole family--‘black and white TV’ clean. Where the married people sleep in different beds? Except...it's a euphemism now."

Tara gave her patented half-grin. "If it makes you feel better? I think I am fishing. Only nobody ever..." Her face matched Buffy’s in redness. "...re-reaches my lure. They don't even see the bait. That's all I'm, comfortable with for now."

Buffy broke first once the shock wore off, then they were both laughing.

"Wanna go sit out back? ‘Cause I'm not through with you yet," she said after the laughter fit died down. "Unless you have an early class tomorrow...do you have an early class tomorrow?"

Tara shook her head as she stood up from the table. "My first class isn't until two."

 

_______

 

To the backyard they went, sitting beside one another on the bench. Fresh air and a clear sky didn't solve Buffy’s problems, but being here certainly felt less oppressive than being in the house. Might've been easier for Tara too, when talking about other girls, if she was free of the building that held memory upon memory of times with her ex.

And if Buffy also happened to enjoy Tara's presence and wasn't ready to face a house where she was the sole, lone occupant, was that a crime?

"Nice night," Buffy commented, looking up. "Almost makes you forget there're all those demons loitering everywhere being evil. When they're not playing poker for kittens."

Tara looked equal parts perplexed and horrified. She assumed they didn't give their winnings good homes stocked with catnip.

"Only some demons, really. Like Spike," Buffy added.

Perhaps it was almost better that Miss Kitty Fantastico had been the unfortunate, accidental target of Dawn and a crossbow--at least the cat hadn't died as something's lunch. But the sooner Buffy was weaned off the vampire, the better she'd be.

"What time do you work tomorrow?" Tara asked.

"I got stuck with the late shift," came Buffy’s grumble. "Why?"

"There’s something I think..." Tara stopped and started over. "I’d like to take you somewhere. In the morning. Do you mind getting up early?"

Not hearing an immediate answer, she chickened out. "If--"

Buffy’s eyebrow rose. "How early?"

"Before dawn."

Buffy then gaped. "Dawn as in, the time of day, 'dawn'?"

"Um, yes," confirmed Tara, resisting the temptation to hide her face. "I'll bring a thermos. With coffee."

"Regular, decaf, or date coffee?"

" _Regular._ ” Successfully embarrassed, Tara repeated less emphatically, “Regular. I-I just want to help. As a friend."

"It's okay. M' only teasing," said Buffy lightly, putting a hand on a tense shoulder. "I'll find a way to wake myself up somehow. I killed my alarm clock with a demon last week, though. Don’t ask.” She shuddered, but recovered. “But I’m betting we’re going where you won't tell me."

Tara smiled. "Not yet. But it'll be worth it. I hope."

"Fine, but I'm taking a lot on faith here. Surprises are over-hyped as it is." Buffy waited a beat before asking, "So the real dating started when?"

Tara breathed deep, and got underway. "About three weeks after we...after I broke up with Willow."

She sat a little straighter. "I second-guessed myself for a while, wondering if I did the right thing...and then I was here making pancakes for Dawn, and Willow came in with Amy, who all the sudden wasn't a rat anymore--they'd been doing magick all night. She didn't care, Buffy. So I decided, to hell with it, you know? I needed to move on."

Buffy nodded. "I remember that morning. Came in at the late end, but...was pretty strong, Tara."

The compliment was shrugged off as Tara kept talking.

"I had to just do it, finally; I was sick of feeling miserable. And going out, meeting different people, who for some reason wanna meet me...we have a good time. I know what to expect, because we both know what the boundaries are, what we’re looking for. It's honest."

 However, her face still saddened a bit. "I didn't think I'd be able to handle being on my own, but it's made me realize, I don't need Willow. Which scares me to death, because I thought I always would."

"You weren't around for Angel, but believe me, there was a time when he was my entire world. We're talking tunnel-vision to the point of absolute sureness that I couldn't survive without him,” Buffy tried to relate. “Only I am. Not in the greatest way, but I've figured out he can't just swoop in and fix everything, no one can; so long story really short, he's in the 'I love you, but I'm not in love you' file cabinet these days.

"Is that where Will is?"

There was a long beat before Tara spoke the truth aloud with some resignation.

"I think so." The weight of that slowly registered. "Goddess, she is. That's new."

Buffy automatically returned the earlier favor, offering a supportive, firm hug.

"I wanna hear steady breathing; no hyperventilating on my watch." She rubbed slow circles on Tara's back. "Sneaks up on ya, doesn't it?"

"Uh huh. A little too well," said Tara, following instructions. "Tiny squeaks would’ve been nice."

Buffy wouldn’t subject her to another tale of "Angel Drama," but she couldn't help reflecting back again on being eighteen, on how badly she tried to make it work once he returned from Hell. Her body still wanted him, her brain was wary, and her heart was confused. But they were "Buffy and Angel"; he had a soul again. He was what all of her _wanted_ to want.

When he ended their relationship in that sewer tunnel and she wept to Willow, it was more because she let herself know then, she was no longer in love with him. Not like she'd been pre-Angelus. Recognizing that was a painful experience--if your world isn't cutting it anymore, what are you supposed to do? She never did quite find a satisfactory answer.

Releasing Tara, Buffy's eyes told the story well enough. They said she understood.

"Gonna be okay?"

"I might hafta dismount and stretch my legs," Tara responded, making Buffy's forehead crinkle. "Before getting on the horse again...a-a second time. Thanks."

"Haven't felt very helpful since I got back--I didn't know I missed it." Buffy kind of smirked at the odd disconnect that was her life. "But does this mean you and Willow aren't gonna re-couple if she beats her, uh, magick problems?"

Color began draining from Tara’s features, and Buffy immediately wished she hadn’t said it.

"Is...is that why she stopped? To win me back?"

"She may be hoping she can, yeah." Buffy called it as she saw it, because she'd gotten that vibe from Willow in spades. "She also stopped ‘cause of that whole night with Dawn, but you're tied on the list. I think she thinks you guys are--"

"No." Confidence rang in that small word from Tara. "I told her if she could stop for a week, I'd stay. I didn't want it to be an ultimatum, a threat like that, but she wasn't listening to anything else; I was worried, and, pretty desperate."

She shook her head disappointingly at the next turn of events. "She couldn't even last a day. Instead she did that spell on everyone...so we'd forget. She violated my mind. Twice, without having any idea why it was wrong."

Her eyes were angry, a side to Tara that Buffy hadn't seen.

"When I left the house,” Tara continued, “it wasn't to teach her a lesson, or get her to quit--it was for me. I swore I wouldn't let somebody control me that way again. Not...after my dad."

She smoothed out a wrinkle in her dress before resuming.

"I'm happy Willow's doing what she's doing, but she should only be doing it for herself. Her body absorbed lots of dark energy; once she finishes getting rid of it, she better take the time to respect the magick she has, or she'll never..."

"Can't you--?"

"I can't be with her, Buffy. As much as I'd love to give in sometimes, and wish we weren't--"

"No, not..." Buffy got briefly hung up on what words to use. "Can't you tutor her? 'Friend' tutor?"

Silently apologizing for jumping to conclusions, Tara had the grace to look sheepish. "She really needs to go learn from a good coven. Anywhere away from here. When she's ready."

"Does she know all that?" Buffy wondered. "Because she's one hundred percent magick-free, and isn't the keenest on bippity-boppity-booing. Past the cleansing period, or ever. No offense."

The Cinderella reference sort of snuck in there.

"None taken," said Tara, smiling. After a moment, she answered, "Willow probably doesn't. Know."

"She needs to, then. You should tell her. Everything." Buffy stared in a manner reserved usually for demons. "Hey--at my party next week. You're coming, she's coming..."

Buffy identified with Tara, didn't begrudge the woman her choices, and had gained a good deal more respect for her tonight to go along with what'd been there. But Willow was still her best friend, and she deserved to have all the facts. Short-term heart breakage was a sad side effect.

"We'll talk," Tara agreed, then seized an opportunity. "That reminds me, Dawn thinks she found you the perfect present; she keeps saying how excited she is whenever we're out. I bet she'd give away a couple hints if you asked."

Ooh. Clever. Respect kept on climbing, like that little man in the _Price Is Right_ game.

"Okay, that's fair," accepted Buffy ruefully. "I'm not in the running for the 'Bestest Big Sister of 2002' award. If there's a top fifty, I'm overshooting last place by a continent, and won't even rank this year."

"The year just started."

            Buffy's eyes widened in disbelief, and her voice was laced with a tone Tara couldn't nail down. "Um, remember that meltdown about an hour and a half ago? I'm kind of constantly pessimistic."

Sighing, her mask withered. "Dawn wants me to be her sister: her never dead, never resurrected sister. But I don't know where that person is, and when Dawn wants to do the ‘family bond’ thing, I'm scared of who she’d be bonding with. I'm sorry she's upset, but it's better than the alternative."

She pondered that. "Unless the alternative was Joan. She seemed to like Joan. Hell, _I_ liked Joan--she was 'Older Buffy,’ but an ‘Older Buffy’ who didn’t have to live through the last five years, ‘cause they were a downer. And she was perkier, don't forget. Naïve, but perkier."

Buffy held in the regret as best she could for Tara's sake. To her, Willow's spell wasn't a violation. It was a welcome dream. "Joan isn't the alternative, though. The real one? That's hard to recognize? She feels ugly. Inside'n'out."

"Dawn doesn't need protection," Tara countered. "She needs to feel useful, to know she matters. You don't have to share all the details with her, but she can handle more than you think--she's grown up fast."

"Then why's she act so childish?"

That was blunt. And snappish to a person who didn't deserve it.

Buffy bit her tongue in penance. "Wasn't directed at you. It just...came out. Plus I think it was rhetorical." She trudged onward. "Even if I thought she could deal, I can't. First I hafta explain who I am to...whoever I am."

Tara was probably looking for a different result, one where she rose above her issues and decided to see Dawn in a new light. Buffy was conscious of how selfish she seemed, but it wasn't as if she enjoyed being lost to herself. She believed she’d be no good to anyone until "the real her" resurfaced. Thank god the person she shared bench space with had an idea how to make it happen.

"That's what morning's for." Tara didn't press her on Dawn. "It’ll be a first step, at least. We can always take more."

A wordless stretch of crickets and car engines signaled that the evening had run its course.

Tara stood. "I should..."

"Leave me to avoid Willow?" Buffy queried with faux-innocence. "In case she comes home early?"

"An-and to let you get some sleep," Tara wasted zero time in adding. "I know you're tired."

Buffy generally hated complaining to anyone other than herself; she dealt in private, sparing her friends to keep up the facade of strength. But Tara being Tara, angst was brought out with ease, and didn't make her feel weak. She wouldn't call tonight "cathartic" per se, because she wasn't exactly lighter and re-energized, but unleashing her dark secret and not being crucified for her actions was the first hurdle she had to clear.

Recovery wasn't guaranteed, but by choosing Tara, odds had improved. She'd managed an intelligent decision--good omen? Or wishful thinking?

"Beyond tired," came the agreement, and Buffy pointed vaguely at her vocal chords. "Also? No more 'heavy-talk' left in there."

"So go inside, go to bed...and dress warm tomorrow," suggested Tara.

"Want me to walk you?"

"To the driveway?" Tara smiled teasingly. "I'm sure I'll find it."

As soon as she said one more thing.

"But, Buffy? You are absolutely _not_ ugly; please don't believe that about yourself. You're beautiful."

As if Buffy wasn’t already blushing enough. "Says whose eyes? 'Friend' or ‘gay woman’?"

Tara's half-grin, more enigmatic than usual, more than she even realized, claimed her face muscles again. "Good night."

"Night, Tara."

Buffy did her friend the courtesy of not pressing either. She watched Tara disappear around the side of the house, listened to the car pull away, and sat under the stars a couple more minutes before greeting her mattress with a bona fide, happy sensation that went straight to the bone. She was alone, yet the fire hadn't been completely snuffed.

Encouraged by that, she banked on her internal clock wanting to go off in time for Tara, so she didn't even worry about her sacrificed alarm.

Meanwhile, during the drive back to campus, Tara puzzled over what hell-spawn had possessed her back there, because seriously, what the hell was that?


	2. Part Two

"The beach?" Buffy said with some confusion as Tara brought her car to a stop the next morning. "I was expecting a giant mountain with a monastery on top. Or Disneyland."

"I don't think it's open," Tara pointed out, hoping her passenger wasn't too let down.

Buffy countered with, "Factor in the driving time, and by when we got there it would be. Ooh, and if you have a VIP pass, they let you in before everyone else."

Then she had to dejectedly concede a sad truth. "Which I don't have. Yet. But someday." Unbuckling her seatbelt, she took a deep breath. "Guess ‘til then...beach me." Her gloved hand reached for the door handle.

"Don't forget your coffee." Tara removed the _Espresso Pump_ cup from the car's holder, and handed it over.

"If I'da known 'make coffee' meant 'buy coffee,' I would've given you money. Shoulda told me." Buffy blew through the lid's "drinking hole" to cool the liquid off. "One of us obviously has a really sad grasp of the English language. From a sadder dictionary. With missing pages. That starts with 'Zork' and hasn't even heard of the letter G."

"We had a coffee machine in the common room, but when I woke up, it wasn't working," explained Tara.

"That too. How scary's it gonna get later?"

"Whoever brought their own from home better have strong doors. And a-a good spot to pray."

"So, caffeine-deprived, zombie insanity." Buffy followed her friend outside and closed the car door. "Too bad. It's my day off." She took a sip. "Mmm. That's perfect. And not just kind of. To a T."

Tara smiled, somewhat proudly, at Buffy's surprised look. "When we had 'Greek Art' last year? You'd usually bring a cup to class, and have three, sugar packets and a cream stuffed in your jacket. I guess I just...remembered."

"Yeah. To a T. Say hi to my phrase of the day."

With one step they were off the gravelly parking lot, and touching sand. They passed through a section of tall grass that exited onto the main beach, quietly consuming coffee until Buffy said, "Let me pay you back for this."

"Sure, I could," Tara began, turning up the collar on her long, brown, wool coat and half-grinning, "but then today would be completely ruined."

Buffy’s eyes rolled. "What's the plan exactly?"

"The first part? Treating you,” Tara answered while thinking, _'Like a human being.'_ "And I, you know, like my plan. A lot. Save your money, Buffy."

"Fine,” smiled Buffy. "But next time we switch."

For some reason neither could place, hearing Buffy’s soft declaration silenced them again. Arms across her chest, Buffy listened to seashell fragments crunch under Tara's boots, glad she'd followed her friend’s wise clothing instructions. Despite red hues coloring the sky, the sun refused to heat them, still not having risen above the horizon.

Her leather jacket, white scarf, gloves and black, knit-cap fought off the early morning chill nicely. She looked at Tara, whose coat took advantage of every, last button, acting as a snug shield. One hand rested in a pocket, leaving the other to hold her beverage. They were bare--Tara didn’t use as many layers, but seemed content.

Even more, Tara seemed radiant, long hair blowing lightly in the breeze. With that quality going for her, Buffy guessed UV was sort of redundant. It was kind of unfair.

Soon they were standing just shy of the encroaching and receding ocean, getting a big whiff of salt.

"Phew," uttered Buffy, crinkling her nose. "My sinuses’ll never be this happy again, _ever_."

"That's not the reason we came," Tara smirked. "Not that clear sinuses aren't totally important."

Buffy suddenly found herself listening to a lack of environment. The water's motions made no sound, and the commonplace noise of seagulls apparently wasn't so commonplace this morning. After a few minutes, she turned around to view the beach, then swiveled her head towards Tara, forehead creased in lost thought. The odd sense of déjà vu that bugged since leaving the car, forced her to sit down before she fell down.

So she did, right there on the sand. What did this remind her of?

"What's wrong?" Tara asked concernedly, crouching down beside her.

Buffy blinked. "Huh? Oh. 'Mummy hand' moment."

That was now her shorthand for every time she felt like she'd done something before. And even though she wanted to brush it off as ridiculous, she immediately retracted her statement. After last night, she felt like she could say anything to Tara and not worry about how it sounded.

"...I’m remembering being someplace with you. I think. Someplace like here. And it was--I dunno what it was." She let out a frustrated "grr." "Ignore the unstable slayer; her and reality aren't chatty today."

"Thank god." Tara's oddly relieved reaction brought forth a pained frown from Buffy. "No, this is why we came. Mostly." Beat. "Before anything else, I thought we needed to talk about it. We probably should've a long time ago, but it didn't...feel right."

"Talk about what?"

"When I was borrowed."

Recollection now spilled from Buffy's lips easily, the details coming to her in quick flashes. "Desert, anti-social first slayer, cheese guy with shaky symbolism..." She drew in a surprised breath. "That was really you? In my...? Get out."

"I wanted to; because she didn't, ask exactly." Tara moved from the crouch to a full on, Indian-style sitting position facing her friend. "I was just _there_ , and what she made me tell you--"

"That slayers make great loner-types?" came Buffy’s rhetorical question. "Kinda not wrong."

"Maybe. But you chose not to just accept it like the others did; you've kept people around you. It's-it's brave, and smart, and right. Nobody should ever be alone," Tara echoed her words from last night. "I hated being forced to say those things. I didn't believe any of it, and still don't."

Buffy could have replied with how she preferred a solitary life away from her friends now, right or wrong, but that would've just been rehashing, doing neither of them any good. She also could have declined what sounded like an apology, as it wasn’t Tara’s fault she was hijacked by Buffy’s primal ancestor, but that would've only dredged up Tara's history of being used and manipulated, again serving no purpose.

Instead she asked, "Were you in Willow's dream, too? You were already sort of connected at the time..."

"If I was, it's because she wanted me there. In the way it's, usually supposed to happen. But it wasn't really me,” Tara told her. "I shouldn't remember yours, but...it’s still so clear. Every part. I'm sure I wouldn't have even made a crinkle in your regular dreams. I definitely wouldn't have been--"

"--real. Except you were. Because my insomnia would've been more normal than the 'sleeping' that night. To a freakishly scary degree," said Buffy wryly. "How come it was you though? We barely spoke to each other back then. Why not Janet Reno? Or Dorothy Hamill?"

"They were busy?" Smart-alecky Tara was something that needed getting used to, and hearing her, Buffy could only roll her eyes again. "Dorothy Hamill?"

"I went through an 'ice-skating' phase,” blushed Buffy. “When your parents are falling apart, it's a good distraction; there should be ads. And now that I'm thinking, it probably would've been way healthier than how I’m distracted lately--there’s that big 'death, violence, and violent sex' theme and all."

She laughed hollowly at that, disbelieving how far she'd gone astray. "How's 'hindsight' work again?"

For what must have been the trillionth time, she fought the black mood as best she could. She had to focus on rebounding. On getting positive.

For the next, several minutes both women watched the sun rise, feeling those first rays light their faces. Out on the ocean, the water sparkled, leaving Tara awed. Not for the first time, either. Buffy's reaction amounted to indifference. Her mind knew that what she was seeing was beautiful, but her heart just didn't seem to care.

"This is what I wanted to show you," Tara eventually revealed, her eyes still focused beyond. "I know it's not...it might seem a little silly, but every morning I’m not sure why I should get up? I come here. When you have to face pretty horrible things almost every day, eventually they‘re all you start to see.

"But here, or, ou-out there I mean," She gestured to the big, blue vastness that was the ocean, "always makes me think of The Lion King, and it, gives me perspective."

"More a Beauty and the Beast girl," responded Buffy, rather confused as to where this was going.

"Oh." Tara had thought that reference would explain all, but she’d just have to plow through. "Well there's this song in it, called 'Circle of Life'? It’s really what the whole movie's about. This cute, lion cub’s uncle..."

She stopped, laughing at herself. Detailing a movie Buffy hadn’t seen probably wasn't the best way to get her point across. "Why didn’t I pick a different example?"

"M' still onboard," Buffy assured, putting a hand on her knee. "Sounds vaguely familiar anyway. The concept. Life and death as a big cycle, stuff dies so other stuff can live...right?"

Tara nodded, and Buffy wondered if her friend was as conscious of the hand on her knee, as she was of the knee under her hand.

Tara continued to explain. “She doesn't know it, but right now a fish is eating algae to get bigger and stronger so it can feed another fish, who can go feed his family; but she laid her eggs first, and one day when they hatch, it'll start all over again.

"It's sad that she has to get gobbled up, but everything else survives because of her. I guess I’m saying--and I didn’t always believe, not until Sunnydale--even though it seems bad now, there’s always a reason. As long as you're willing to learn from the sad parts, the happy parts do come back. Maybe not the same way, but sometimes that can be...good."

Buffy worked that all around in her brain, as she drank more coffee. "So I need to believe there's a bigger picture and a light at the end of a tunnel, even if I can't see any?"

"...Yep." Tara had taken the winding route, but at least Buffy got her point. "But I'll try to help. I think the reason the First Slayer chose me, is because she knew that I'm supposed to, guide you." She took her own coffee break at this juncture.

Buffy wasn't surprised by Tara's theory. It fit. Felt right. No way could she rationally explain why, but it did. Especially given last night, and how she’d ended up in a much better emotional place from where she’d started.

 The first hint, if she thought back farther, was sitting with Tara on the day of her mother's death. It was a unique feeling then too, that the person beside her could somehow see her through the pain. Tara understood before a word even got out.

Yes, there'd been a shared experience of loss, but there was also this instant comfort level, this connection between two, human people. Tara stopped being just “Willow’s girlfriend”; she stopped being just “Willow’s best friend, the Slayer.” They were seeing each other for the first time.

Unfortunately, it wasn't long after that Tara was taken away from everyone by Glory.

Smiling, Buffy again assured her friend that she wasn't alone in her thoughts. "Sure you want the job? Not that I don't appreciate the mystical whatever-they-ares for hiring you, but most of the time I'm like that guy who keeps pushing that huge boulder up the hill and can’t stop."

Tara stood, and replied as she helped Buffy up. "Probably won’t believe me, and I know it looks like I don’t have _any_ muscles, but I’ve actually pushed before."

"Met your family, remember? I believe."

They went further down towards the tide, and walked along right where it began to recede. As they did, Buffy considered her ancient predecessor, leading to something finally clicking. She breathed, "Damn."

"What?"

"The First Slayer. She's who I've been feeling like since...coming back. A demon warrior girl, who forgets how to just...be a person, and wants to shove 'Buffy' completely out of the way." Voicing that revelation, Buffy’s brow furrowed. "That might be literally."

It went a long way towards explaining her present routine and attitude. Maybe it even explained Spike to an extent.

"Then we shove back and kick her ass," replied Tara.

Buffy found herself laughing, and even catching a bit of the enthusiasm--she considered dubbing it, "The Tara Effect." "What's next, Zagat?"

"You want me to recommend a restaurant?"

That headed toward "dating" territory again.

Buffy turned red at her flop of a joke. "See? I used to be quippy. But she can’t even let me have _that_. It's getting hopeless."

"Small steps," Tara told her, and after finishing off her coffee, she linked their arms. "Next is the party. It'll let you relax and just be with your family, which'll be good for you."

"And have cake and presents," added Buffy. "I remember 'Buffy' liking cake and presents."

"That too," grinned Tara, while Buffy swallowed the last of her coffee as well.

A few more feet passed before they decided to turn back to go to the car, though Buffy had one more thing to ask. "Wait...how did Sunnydale prove to you that Bad has a reason? ‘Cause in this town, usually it doesn't need one--besides ‘Hellmouth.’ And that stopped being good enough a long time ago."

Tara didn't answer right away. It was like she was preparing. "If my father and my brother treated me better, if my mom didn't teach me about magick, if she didn't...die when she did, I wouldn't have left home. I wouldn't have met Willow, I wouldn't have loved her, and I'd probably still think I was a demon.

“I also wouldn't have been made a Scooby, or been able to help keep people safe. Buffy, when you accepted me, when everyone did, that was the best day of my life. I never thanked you for that."

That all solidified Buffy's understanding pretty handily. "Don't have to. You're kind, awesome, _and_ slightly quirky--you belong with us, Tara. All I did was make it official. But I'm thanking you."

Her eyes wanted no argument. "For this morning, and future mornings. I'm lucky you’re here, and the quiet strolling was... _is_ nice. Even though I'm still not past the dead, mama fish and picturing the ocean as 'that deep, soggy place you drown in,' I get the philosophy. Hopefully someday soon we'll share."

"You're welcome," smiled Tara.

Back at the car, she had a thought. "Before I drop you off at the house, how about breakfast? There’s this great diner that--"

"Hah! 'Zagat'...to a T." Buffy sighed contentedly as Tara giggled. "Hey, silver lining."

 

_______

 

|-Bath, England, Present-|

 

Night had fallen, as had fresh, blinding snow. It continued to.

They spent half the day talking with Tara, not wanting to let her out of their sight. Buffy still didn't. She sat beside Tara on her living room couch, in front of the active fireplace, wide-awake. Everyone else--with the noticeable exception of Kennedy and Willow--had gone to sleep. Her sister's head rested in Tara's lap, and Dawn snored away contentedly.

"I can't believe how--" Tara began.

"--taller, prettier and more trendy than me she's gotten? Thanks, didn’t notice at all." Buffy finished for her, mock-glowering. "But legally, she has six more months where she’s a felony, so..."

Tara blushed crimson. "You know I'd never..."

"I do--this is still me teasing." Buffy grinned broadly--she missed Tara so much.

Then came the unmistakable sound of Willow moaning from upstairs.

"Which Kennedy apparently stopped doing," deduced Buffy, and they were both blushing now. "Can't say no to a tongue-stud, I guess."

Willow’s ex was rather impressed.

"Wow," Tara uttered.

Throat clearing came from Buffy. "Wanna go to the kitchen? Away from the acoustic happies of comfort-sex?"

Nodding readily, Tara eased herself off the couch so as not to wake Dawn. She put a pillow under the girl's head, then took the blanket draped over the back of the couch, and laid it over her. Buffy had watched her sister around Tara a lot today. Whereas Willow was like another sister, Tara had always been a surrogate mother.

Buffy gripped Tara's hand, and gave one, last look up at the ceiling. "That's why Xander lives back in the basement."

That was partly true. He also had his workshop down there. It was his sanctuary of maleness in a house full of women. Women he cared deeply for, but he needed a space to call his own. A space where sounds had to pass through two floors and die before reaching him, meaning he could get his necessary Zs.

Tara stifled laughter with her unoccupied palm, and they headed to the kitchen. Wasn't anything overly fancy about it, it just was larger than Buffy's in Sunnydale, giving more room to maneuver during the breakfast and dinner rushes.

Crossing its threshold, Tara wondered, "Have any hot chocolate?"

"Practically always." Buffy smiled again, enjoying the déjà vu. She realized then, that to get the drinks, she'd have to sacrifice her hold on Tara. "’Kay, promise me you aren't, like, 'The Touchable Ghost of Groundhog Day' now, and won't disappear, and I'll let go." Her tone was light, her eyes serious.

"I promise," spoke Tara sincerely, but her friend remained hesitant. "Everything I said is...it's the truth, Buffy. I wouldn't come here and lie to everyone. To Dawn."

Her voice got softer. "Especially not to you--not after everything you've been through." She squeezed Buffy’s hand, and then slowly smirked. "Besides, we both know I’m pretty bad at making up stories. You were always able to tell. When I did."

"Remind me to let you meet Andrew," said Buffy sardonically, and their hands separated.

She went to gather the teapot, while Tara asked, "Mugs?"

"Top left." Buffy pointed to the cabinets as she filled at the sink.

Tara moved to grab a couple. "Why is it comfort sex?" When she was looked at with a "huh?" expression, she gestured upwards. "Willow and Kennedy."

"Might’ve actually uh,” replied Buffy with a slight cough, "made that up, but...well, Will went all 'Uber-Evil' and killed Warren, because he killed you. She spent a long time coming back from, and she knows how wrong, but I think part of her probably still justified it...in an, 'eye-for-an-eye' way."

She sat the pot on the stove and turned on the burner. "But now you're alive again and, maybe she’s feeling...less with the justice." Beat. "She'll be okay, though; Kennedy's been great to her. In bed and out of."

Tara frowned some, thinking about Willow going through that guilt because of her, but it turned into a bit of a smile. "I knew she'd find someone."

She sat the mugs on the counter beside the oven, and then guessed where the packets were.

"Kennedy kinda found her. All signs pointed to 'rebound.'" Buffy smirked, leaning back against the counter to face Tara--who guessed right--while the water heated. "Shows how much I understand relationships."

She watched Tara retrieve the milk carton from the fridge, place it by the mugs, and then empty the cocoa mix into them. It was still sinking in that yes, Tara was genuinely here. Though embarrassed when she saw she had an audience, Tara half-grinned regardless. Hazel eyes darted away. They were right next to each other.

"So you believe me? About what happened?"

Buffy's gaze refocused. "Believing isn't the issue. You could tell me puppies are gonna cause the next apocalypse, and there'd be no questioning."

There was zero trace of a joke.

"But it's like you said,” she continued. “After everything--the First showing up wearing the faces of people we cared about, and knowing resurrections have steep downsides--I keep expecting the other shoe. 'Cause when you don't, that's usually when it drops on your head."

Tara's case was different, but still.

"Tara, you being here is," Buffy exhaled a body-relieving sigh, "honestly? The next best thing to getting my mom back. The universe is being nice...since when is the universe nice?"

"It wasn't the universe really,” corrected Tara. “Cordelia's the only reason I got the chance."

That alone made Buffy's head spin. "I wish I coulda known her, post-high school."

She'd only heard tales of the ex-cheerleader's maturity--had never seen it. News was, Cordelia died in her sleep a week ago; she hadn't ever emerged from a mystical coma.

"Wish I coulda thanked her, too," Buffy added.

"I won't ever say it enough, but, I have every day," Tara revealed. "She gave up her life so I could have mine back."

Both reabsorbed the weight of that for a moment.

"The Lion King was a very wise movie." Buffy suddenly remembered the "Circle" talk, and it clearly applied. She appreciated the philosophy now.

Tara chuckled. "Yeah."

In the lull following, each became aware of their relative closeness. Buffy found herself spontaneously hugging Tara for the fifth or sixth time (she'd lost count), and Tara made it mutual for the fifth or sixth time. It was almost a pull, a need to stay in contact.

Buffy thought it might've been their bodies way of not letting them put off what, in hindsight, they shouldn't have a couple years ago. Now, they were in the miraculous position to have another shot. So mid-hug, she just came out with it.

"All right--somebody hasta start kissing somebody, here."

 

_______

 

|-Sunnydale, March 2003-|

 

Willow was standing over the Summers' living room couch, folding the laundry and placing it back in the basket, which Buffy sat opposite of. Considering the house was packed with a bunch of teenaged girls who had the potential to become the next Chosen One, the pile was a bit on the immense side. Doing laundry was normal and relaxing however, and it allowed she and Buffy to talk--something they didn't really get a chance to do anymore.

Buffy had a date with her boss tonight. He was principal of the new Sunnydale High, and all reports were, he seemed cool and pleasant. He could also be evil, as his office was situated right over the Hellmouth. So besides wanting to have a nice night, this first date was for hopefully disproving any possible threat.

Willow had already had her first date. It had been with Kennedy, the oldest Potential, and it ended disturbingly. She was forced to become and confront Tara's killer. With Kennedy's help, she did. Felt like she'd turned a corner, made her peace and finally moved on.

Tara had broken up with her long before she was killed, but Willow hadn't really put herself out there. As a result, Willow snapped more than she might have. She lost herself in dark magick, and it escalated beyond revenge--she'd very nearly destroyed the world. Thank god for Giles and Xander, who both worked in their own ways to bring her back from the brink.

After it was over, she heeded Giles' advice (advice Tara had given months prior), and went with him to England where she trained with a coven over the summer. But this wasn't about her personal trials and tribulations. This was about her best friend's date.

"Buf, if he's really interested," said Willow with an excited smile, "are you interested back?"

Buffy blushed. "I don't know. He's good-looking, and he's-he's solid, he's smart, he's normal. So, not the wicked energy, which is nice 'cause I don't want to only be attracted to wicked energy. Or what if he is wicked, in which case, is that why I'm attracted to him?"

"I'm gonna wait for that sentence to come around again before I jump on," Willow quipped. "But if he gets all check-pluses in the 'Not Evil' column, why wouldn't you be? You haven't dated since Riley. Oughta get back on the horsie."

Buffy didn't respond--she seemed lost in her head somewhere.

"Didcha notice how I totally skipped over Spike?" Willow smiled innocently.

"Why's everyone in this house...?" Buffy began exasperatedly, but trailed off. Just as she was about to be asked what was going on in that head of hers, this came out: "Will, I...I wouldn't because, there's this problem where...he isn't Tara."

"Who is?" Willow asked rhetorically, and then dropped the socks she was holding. "Wai...huh?"

Buffy reached down for the escaped pair, and picked at them so she wouldn't have to look Willow in the eye. "Y'know how she was helping me find, um, me, last year?"

Willow nodded mutely, but Buffy didn't see it, she simply went on.

"First I thought it was a 'shrink crush' type thing--and it's sad that that's the best analogy--but after Riley coming back and me telling Spike it was over? When I started to feel...connected again? How I was feeling about Tara didn't leave. It set up shop.

"If she wasn't somewhere in my day, the day fell short of 'good.' Was happy just being in the same room. Didn't even hafta talk. But I could forever when we did, and-and her hugs...god. 'Tara Hugs.'" Buffy met Willow’s eyes. "I might maybe have possibly been sort of somewhat in love with her. And it's kinda continuing."

"Oh," came Willow's even more dumbstruck reaction. "Really?"

"Really," echoed Buffy. "Never acted on, though. You were deep in the 'coping' stage, and it just...would've been a bad."

She exhaled. "Once stuff settled and you had somebody new, I had an almost plan. We'd have a conversation semi-exactly like this, you'd say it was okay, and I'd ask her out.

"Then, dinner at the most upscale-sounding place my wallet could afford, wearing my most expensive-looking outfit. And the night'd go great--also known as the everywhere-but-Sunnydale definition of 'normal.' Finally capping with--"

"Smoochies?" Willow completed, beginning to grin. "From 'Tara Lips'?" She let herself remember how it felt, closing her eyes. "Kennedy'll kiss for hours, but Tara knew how to make just one? _Feel_ like hours."

Buffy pouted. "At Xander and Anya's not-wedding? With those dresses that were probably designed by colorblind, Slurnix demons?" She was sidetracking. "Ooh...because they hermit inside the butts of yaks and only need air every other decade, bet that explains the style-impairment."

Willow blanched at the visuals.

Thankfully her friend got back to the point. "Anyway, Tara? Yeah, still amazing...she always looked amazing. In anything. How’d you guys ever leave the house? Because if she...if we had...most likely the world would’ve ended."

Willow’s face went hot from memory and embarrassment both. Buffy didn’t expect her to answer, did she? Right before she was about to short circuit, an image entirely unrelated to Tara’s clothes coming off entered her head, and she started giggling. Whew.

"We-we should ask Anya if the demons looked like yak-asses," she quickly suggested.

That got Buffy going. It couldn't be verified, but it’s likely there was a snort or two in the mix. Why? Who knows? It wasn't that funny.

After collecting themselves, Buffy dried her eyes with a sock and asked, "How come no yelling at?"

"Because she was super easy to fall in love with," replied Willow now that the surprise was over, but looked grumpily at the used sock. "Can't blame you."

The smitten look on Buffy's face was all-too-familiar.

"Sure, seeing her with anybody who wasn't 'me-shaped' woulda been hard,” Willow admitted, “but Tara happy and you happy? All I ever wanted. If that meant two of my most favorite people being together, then woo."

Seeing Buffy smile a smile of both gratitude and "What could've been," and seeing peepers well up, Willow moved to embrace and comfort.

"No, no crying. 'Cause then I definitely will, and...and all our socks are gonna be soggy. Nobody likes soggy socks."

Buffy laughed thickly into Willow’s shoulder. "Nothing wrong with 'Willow Hugs,' either."

"I practice lots," Willow joked, pulling back and scooching next to Buffy on the couch. "I want her to be here too, Buffy. She...she was Tara." And that was plenty explanation. "Now I don't get to tease, or-or coach..."

Buffy's eyebrows went up at this _._

"She woulda felt so lucky, and it woulda been so fun."

Willow knew for a fact about the former, and as the lost memory returned, this chat's subject shouldn't have seemed so out of the blue.

"That's what my imagination was hoping, only the universe hates when I imagine things, and needs to suck at the worst possible time," griped Buffy, beginning to visibly mope and be the quiet masochist she was at her core.

“The universe” was just a stand-in so Willow wouldn't know where she truly rested the blame. Shame Buffy’s face sold her out.

"Hop off the 'guilt train.'" Willow's face quickly bore her honed look of resolve. "I'm writing the conductor an angry email. In all caps. Wait'll he sees how emphatic my text is."

Then just as quick, her features softened. "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault except misogynistic Warren's, and whoever taught him being like that was neato. Trust me--learned the tough way."

"Willow, if I caught him at the amusement park, or wasn't out back when Xander came by to talk...if-if I hadn't asked her to move back in..."

Sigh.

Willow had been friends with Buffy long enough to realize nothing she said could change her mind, so she tried a different tack. "Know what she'd tell you?"

Buffy certainly did. "To stop. Because life's full of 'tragic'n'unfair,' no matter what we do. But I hafta keep reminding myself that reasons exist for why."

"Also that you're a dummy."

Tara dying sent her over the edge, yet even while evil, Willow could see that Buffy had truly felt concern and fear and love for her. Her trip into the dark brought Buffy one-hundred percent back. Afterwards, she finally stepped the extra step toward the Coven and faced her problem instead of pretending it was something she could quit.

Fine, there reasons were. But why'd death need to be the catalyst? Why that extreme? She genuinely wanted Buffy to have a chance with Tara, and wondered what the jerky Powers-That-Be's problem was.

 

_______

 

|-Bath, England, Present-|

 

Luckily, the Powers' unlikely messenger had been in the enviable position to make some demands, and had now given Buffy and Tara that chance. No, Buffy didn't think Cordelia's sacrifice was driven by a desperate, last wish to play matchmaker from on high, but nevertheless, it did open a door that would've otherwise stayed permanently locked. Better late than a lifetime of never.

If Buffy had been in Cordelia's situation, just meeting Tara and learning the circumstances of her death would've made the decision all that much easier. Though she'd admit to a hefty bias, because Tara was kissing her. Just the way Willow said.

She didn't take the act of, for granted. Every second got used up to its fullest. Tara took as much care with kissing as she did everything else; it was about giving, about making the kissee feel how much they were loved. Slow, calming and constant, maximizing all possible points of contact. And it spread throughout, bone-deep, leaving you very...at peace.

Big, powerful emotion and the toe-curling physical--undoubtedly worth the wait.

Those not wanting to do Tara's technique justice, might say she kissed like she had all the time in the world, and cliché aside, they'd be mistaken. If shorthand was absolutely necessary, then Buffy would say Tara's technique was that of someone who knew how fleeting “Time” was, and how important it was not to waste. Nobody grasped better, given what she'd experienced.

Buffy hadn't expected her to initiate. At least not without warning. She hurried to follow Tara’s lead.

Unfortunately, the teapot chose to whistle rather interrupting-ly. Buffy made a valiant effort to turn off the stove, reaching blindly for the knob so they didn't have to stop, but it did not succeed. Irked, she spun away from pleasant lips.

She turned the knob, roughly escorted the teapot to a burner that wasn't hot, and declared, "That's it--they're obviously evil, so I’m finding every teapot, and slaying. Violently."

During this proclamation, she'd faced Tara again, who was amused as well as nervous. But as Buffy fell right back into the previous moment, her dazed grin wiped the nervousness away.

"Fire pretty, tree bad."

Tara adopted a "pleased with herself" smirk. "Sometimes."

Laughter bubbled up out of Buffy, and she smacked her new, hopefully girlfriend. "Thank you."

Hearing the sincerity in those two words, Tara became bashful.

"'Course, everything's happening totally backwards, but I don't mind. There're worse ways to screw up a plan," smiled Buffy.

"I forgot," Tara lightly touched Buffy's arm, "you wanted to go to dinner."

"Yeah, I...hey." Before Buffy made it very far into her reply, she realized something didn't add up. "How'd you know that? You weren't even..." Then it came to her. "You watched us, didn't you? When you were being...higher being-y."

"There wasn't much else to do." Tara wasn't really ashamed for, in essence, spying, though she tried to look it. "It's why I said yes when Cordelia let me choose. I wanted to at least be able to see everyone. Even if I couldn't be there."

"Selfless, considerate, sweet...ya-huh, definitely very ‘Tara.’" Buffy was most assuredly love's bitch. She didn't find anything negative about that. "But wasn't it hard to leave? Or...oh. Was your heaven dimension defective?"

Their hands found each other again.

Tara shook her head. "It was nice, just--"

Dawn walked sleepily into the kitchen right then, giving them a once-over. "I knew it."

Buffy's eyes rolled at her sister. "You knew squat."

"Did so," retorted Dawn, and then spotted the mugs. "Can I have some?"

"Sorry, strictly a 'Date' batch. For people on dates. Like me. And Tara. Finally," Buffy deprived, and saw Tara's curious glance out of the corner of her eye. "Go with it."

"Geez, sorry, Tara," Dawn addressed her with a frown, head shaking.

"What for?" Tara quizzically wondered.

"My sister." Dawn’s frown morphed into a wry grin. "Being so-not-unbelievably cheap."

Buffy's jaw set. "One, I'm _thrifty_ ," she corrected, emphasizing the distinction. "Two, it’s blizzarding outside. Had to improvise. And three, why aren't you asleep?"

"Teapot woke me up."

Tara wore an expression of disbelief. "But upstairs didn't?"

Referring to the now quieting utterances of sexual bliss above them.

"No way--I had a room down the hall from you and Willow for half a year, almost. Became like, my lullaby." Dawn kept going, unaware at first of Tara's crossed arms and a stare that got continually more disapproving. "Besides, you guys were way louder. It was frickin’ n..."

Dawn heard Buffy’s throat clear, which drew her attention and eyes straight to Tara.

"...nothing I oughta be retelling any people ever. Uttingshay upway about totally private stuff." Looking sheepish and chastised, she pointed out the way she'd come. "Heh. Whaddaya know? Time for us broken Keys to find our beds. Night, sis."

Buffy smirked and waved. "Night, Dawnie."

Then Dawn ran to Tara and crushed her waist in a bear hug. "I am so-so-so-so-so-so-so-so _so_ happy you're back. I feel like a Disney movie on tainted, designer drugs. Seriously. You have _no_ idea." As Tara's hand brushed along her hair, Dawn said innocently, "Never thought I'd eat your pancakes again."

"Ohh...all makes sense now." When Dawn released her, Tara saw that the faux-innocence had moved onto the girl’s face. "Want me to cook you some for breakfast tomorrow?"

"Yes, please. Funny shapes." Then Dawn stared at her sister untrustingly. "If Buffy stops hogging you all to herself and lets the rest of us have 'Tara Time.'"

Buffy's unconvincing look in return said, _'I have no clue what you're talking about.'_

"With me or my food?"

Buffy nearly laughed at Tara's teasing of Dawn, who was visibly worried again.

Tara quickly took pity on her. "Your nose'll smell 'em soon as you get up. Go sleep."

"You too. Both too." Dawn grinned like she expected something to happen when she left. "Crap knows you dated enough times already."

"Those weren't dates," spoke Buffy and Tara in immediate unison, as if they'd had to tell her that before.

"Whatever." Shrugging at them, Dawn finally walked out of the kitchen.

"Ready for hot chocolate?" Buffy queried after a noticeable stretch of silence.

Silence they used to consider the younger girl’s words. Those times spent together were...they weren't...were they?

"Isn't the water probably cold again?" Tara pointed out.

It had been off the burner even before the...interruption.

"Damn, evil teapot." Buffy had that "slayerly" gleam in her eye.


	3. Part Three

|-Outside Sunnydale, Past Rte. 17, March 2002-|

 

"Want me to walk you to your car?" Buffy asked the teenage girl who almost walked out of the ice-rink on a vampire's arm.

And, one would assume, on his dinner menu. Though since he'd just crumbled to dust by the front doors, there was no longer any danger of that. Buffy was just glad she'd managed to keep balance wearing skates on carpet, allowing her to slay without the embarrassment of falling.

"No, I...I'm...it's, uh, right out front." The girl blinked out of her shock. "You just saved my life, didn't you?" Before Buffy could say anything, she started being hugged. "Thank you."

When let go, Buffy smiled, uncomfortable with the attention. "Just remember--always do a 'pulse check’ before the heavy flirting."

The girl nodded like a rapt student. She was still a little thrown, but left under her own power after giving Buffy a grateful smile. Carefully, Buffy turned back around to face her audience of rink patrons, who'd watched the whole thing. Being embarrassed wasn't something she could escape tonight.

"Rabies," she lied off the top of her head. "Uh, very advanced, very dusty, very worse than 'Old Yeller,' rabies. Worst in years, actually. You can't turn on the news lately without somebody talking about it. Even that one weather guy in the morning who obviously doesn't know what a comb is."

Nothing.

"So...everybody's pets have all their shots, right? 'Cause..." She looked down at the ashes, and then back up, trying to indicate the consequences. Still, she received no reaction. "Was I the only one who paid?"

Suddenly, all were scrambling to get their money's worth, leaving Tara there alone. She went up to Buffy and stayed close as they moved to a bench, in case loss of equilibrium seemed imminent. It never was, but she assisted with sitting anyway, and then the laughter she'd been containing burst forth.

Buffy stood by her elaborate concoction. "What? Rabies is serious. People should be wary. And didn't you see him? Extreme mouth foaminess."

Tara just laughed harder, sitting next to her.

"It's amazing how much you suck." Buffy couldn't prevent a smile though, and bent down to unlace her skates.

The first suckage was two months ago at her birthday party. Tara had silently begged her to stay when Willow came downstairs, but Buffy bolted. In the kitchen, after not being able to speak anything of consequence (even after all that rehearsing), Tara downed a cup of water and breathlessly commented to Buffy, "You suck."

Minutes later however, she got a little payback. Buffy clearly wanted an excuse not to entertain Xander's friend from work, but Tara purposefully didn’t bail her out. Before the birthday girl showed the guy a place to park, she quietly commented back, "You suck more."

The real kick in the pants? Tara had been right about Dawn. Buffy could've stopped any wishes that led to being trapped in houses, just by showing Dawn she mattered. At the end of it all, Buffy had learned her lesson--listening to Tara was something to do more of--but that didn't mean Tara didn't suck. Because she did.

"I was thinking the same about you. I told you I couldn't skate," said Tara, frowning, starting to unlace her skates as well, and blocking the pain her rump was in.

" _Probably_ couldn’t skate. Means you never tried, so I was teaching you. Only badly," Buffy smiled guiltily, but wasn't done. "There were tons of other options for celebrating 'Buffy's Self-Respect' making a comeback--most of which, okay, required some 'balance/coordination' skills. Just never on frozen water. An idea that wasn’t in any way mine."

She threw her arm around Tara's shoulders once she was free of the skates, and asked with deep concern, "How's your ass feel, by the way?"

Tara gave her an odd look. "I don't really..." A grin spread. "But you could ask Willow."

Buffy knew Tara's game. Whether their friendship brought it out, or if Tara just turned on her playful streak once she became more comfortable with people in general, Buffy couldn't be sure, but she was long past shock. She'd throw it right back.

"Thought about it. But then I remembered the time Riley said she threatened him with a shovel. Call my belly yellow if you hafta, but if you think I'm asking her what her ex-girlfriend's ass is like, ‘sense’ is a thing you don’t have."

With their skates off, they went to exchange for their shoes.

Forced by the supernaturally long length of the birthday party, Tara braved making certain that Willow understood it was over. Willow pretended to have known so all along apparently, but was never a good fibber. What softened the blow was Tara's approval on the magick front.

The once lovers were definitely still adjusting to the limits of friendship, but from Buffy's outsider perspective, it was going well. For everyone. She'd quit her "Spike" addiction (ergo, celebrating), Willow's confidence returned more each day (especially as she re-devoted herself to school), Xander was six days from marriage, and because everybody around her was happier, so was Dawn.

But Willow wasn't near happy enough to take a question like _that_ in good humor. Hell no. Joke or not, Buffy was backing far away from.

After her sneakers were given back, she held out a wrist. "But weren't you listening? Pulse, _then_ flirt. Those're the rules."

Tara thanked the shoe-keeper for hers, and then said to Buffy, "If I was flirting? You wouldn't have to go to Willow to f-find out what you wanna know."

Buffy gave Tara credit. Her on purpose, slightly nervous delivery with a sprinkle of stutter, made her a better fibber than Willow. And because of Willow, it wasn't the time to be admitting anything. When it _was_ time to tell her best friend she was attracted to Tara? She'd play clueless as to whether it was mutual. Or else Willow wouldn't believe that all these friendly excursions and meet-ups weren't dates. And they weren't.

Buffy lowered her arm with an exaggerated pout, while Tara giggled. "’Kay, you win." Beat. "But you didn’t have to pick here if you knew you weren't gonna like." She got her sneaks on by the "hopping on one foot" method, while her companion sat again to do it more safely.

"I liked watching you," Tara countered. "I figured, since you had a crush on Dorothy Hamill? Maybe skating wasn't always just a distraction; that's only how you remember it, because of..."

Her parents. Buffy found only one thing to object to in that assessment, but Tara spoke again before she could.

"Anybody as talented as you are has to love it."

"Eh, maybe I coulda been." Buffy was shy about her ability. "My dad wanted to get me a coach and everything. Except that woulda meant being away from him and Mom. For years. And when you’re ‘daddy's big girl’ because you can’t know better, Olympic dreams kinda fade," she shrugged. "Think I was already too old anyway. What stinks the most, is I missed out on inventing 'Ice Slaying' and being on _Wheaties_ boxes."

"I bet a lot of kids would've eaten theirs thanks to you," Tara smiled, tying her boots.

"Then had nightmares about vampires coming to their house to steal their cereal and bite their parents," quipped Buffy lightly, before insisting, "But I did _not_ have a crush." With that cleared up, she pulled Tara to her feet. "Air-hockey?"

 

_______

 

"What're you thinking about?" Tara asked Buffy just after she’d gotten yet another goal.

She was going moment by moment with this "guide" role. All she could think to do was pick places where Buffy could enjoy herself, remember what it felt like, and see that fun was around to be had. She also went on a lot of patrols, getting Buffy to speak about the primal nature of what slaying stirred inside her. Then Tara made sure she didn't drown herself in it.

Walking away from Spike was a huge step in the right direction, but Buffy was by no means finished re-acclimating to the world. Tara saw the contemplative, distracted look and knew what put it there, only she wanted Buffy to say. They were alone in the small game room (everyone else ran for cover), so there was no excuse not to.

Tara recognized the silent question of "What else?" in her friend’s eyes, and listened until the words came without struggle or hesitation. "About how many girls that vampire got to kill or turn because of all those nights I wasn't here, and--"

"--back home saving someone else?" Tara gently interrupted.

Buffy got the plastic puck out of the holder on her side, and placed it back at center. "'Superhero complex,' can't help it."

Tara's lips quirked into a grin. "You are a superhero. So that’s okay."

They started to play again, puck gliding back and forth over the surface.

She then amended, “I’m not saying you should blame yourself--you shouldn’t--but it's what makes you different from Her. It always will."

The puck zigzagged its way back into Buffy's “net”. "Yeah, the First Slayer would've been able to block." She reset the puck once more.

Tara, though up 3-1, wasn't focused on that just now. "She was a killer--but you? You go out every night for people like that girl. Not the vampires." Her tone politely demanded full attention. "She's part of-of your power, but she'll never completely have control, because you don’t use it the same way. And you feel so much. _Care_ so much...even though you can’t realize it yet."

"Thanks to the constant reminders, I’m thinking that's slowly seepin’ in."

Tara ducked her head somewhat. She hoped she wasn't being too overbearing. She didn't want to be like those professors on campus who droned on so much about the same topic that you tuned them out. If that's what was happening, and Buffy backslid, she wouldn't ever forgive hers--

The puck came an inch away from scoring on her, but she held it at bay.

She looked up with a disbelieving glower. "That was so mean."

"What part? I like the constant, I do. And c'mon, you weren't looking...an opening begged to be seized. Only not really, 'cause it still didn't go in,” griped Buffy. "You're like an air hockey god...dess.

"You know I need reminding. Keep it up until you can't stand me anymore. Please." Beat. "Oh, and I know the 'disappearing into a shell place' is rare these days, but when it does happen? Can't see you--then I get 'sad face.'" She demonstrated. "So don't. No matter what I say that comes out wrong and moron-like. Okay?"

The puck sped toward her. Buffy couldn't even mount a defense.

"Okay," agreed Tara with a deceptive smile, like nothing had just occurred.

For the first time, she realized Buffy had been helping her too, over these past couple months.

"Way to seize," Buffy sighed. "How're you this good?"

"Donny taught me when we were little." Tara had few happy memories featuring the males of her family, but that was one. "We had a table in our basement. It was supposed to be a game room, but Dad never finished."

"Wild guess--'like father, like son' kicked in around puberty?"

Tara didn't miss the dark edge to what she hoped was a rhetorical question, but for her, all that was in another life. They weren't her family, not in any way that counted, and they had no power over her. She might as well have been talking about people from a history book. She could recite the relevant details, but had no attachment to them whatsoever.

Buffy appeared bummed by her unaffected attitude. "I’m trying to be mad at them...why aren’t you helping?"

"Just can't anymore, even if I should be."

An admiring smile betrayed Buffy's faux-annoyance. "Sure...be well adjusted. Whatever." A couple seconds later, she had puck in hand and asked, "Teach me? You’ve gotta be better at it."

"Why, because you suck?" Tara jibed, and was treated to a "Ha, Ha" face. "I might too, but at least there’s a lot less chance of hurting your--" she began, walking around to the other side of the table.

Buffy reddened. "How many times do I need to apologize, Tare? Jesus cripes."

"Cripes?" Tara repeated back to her, brow arched and lips grinning.

"I don't know why I'm even asking," Buffy muttered after a beat, and then raised her voice, "but, wanna go shopping with Dawn and me tomorrow? Afternoon...ish? It won't break our," She gestured between herself and Tara, "tradition."

Since the beach, having coffee together in the morning was something they'd made a daily habit of. Two friends meeting for coffee.

 _'Innocent,'_ Tara told herself for the thousandth time.

People could have coffee without it being a date. Sure, Buffy was beautiful, and a bit of a goof once you got to know her, and yeah, it was pretty endearing because Buffy didn't know it was. But just because she was single and gay, didn't mean--

"We have to get Xander and Anya a present," continued Buffy. "Days before their wedding. Wait ‘til the last minute--that's the family motto."

"Dawn," Tara left her head as gracefully as possible, "wants me to come?" She didn't want to intrude on any sisterly bonding.

"She's claiming I see you more than she does, and hasn't let me forget this, 'totally true and totally unfair' fact, so I'd say the answer's duh," Buffy confirmed, smirking. "Dawn’s also guaranteeing fun. If you have plans, though--like, 'date' plans, or school stuff--don't cancel for us. I know I'm cramping your social life plenty as it is."

Tara sent her now perfected, "Don't you dare/don't start sucking," look.

“You’re not. You never do.”

Was she kidding? Buffy was the highlight of Tara’s days. And nights, often. Tara had become surprisingly comfortable in graveyards. Due to the company, most likely. They were always talking, learning about each other, trying to embarrass...not that they knew why, other than it was enjoyable.

Tara's spreading of her wings, her self-discovery, was further encouraged and facilitated by Buffy. She was allowed to be, without fear; she hoped she allowed that same freedom. Freedom which had made her even braver and bluer verbage-wise than she’d been with Willow. All starting two months ago during that intense, cleansing night with the euphemism about her liking Buffy.

Wait, that never...and didn't make...whoa. She _liked_ Buffy? Cripes. When did that happen?

Her face gave nothing away. Her voice neither. "Tell her I’d love to...I mean, if I’m being guaranteed fun..."

Big smile from Buffy. She couldn’t like her too, could she? No.

"Great. You're my, 'Get Out of a Mood Swing Free' card for later." Buffy relinquished the puck. "Except now isn't later."

"Nope...it isn't," jibed Tara again, this time making fun of her sentences.

"Hmm. Suckiness so soon? Woulda lost that bet."

With that out of the way, Tara put certain things temporarily on hold and got down to business.

 

_______

 

|-Bath, England, Present-|

 

Tara remembered that afternoon with Buffy and Dawn. They stopped to eat a late lunch at the deli in the shopping center, and while Buffy went to order, Dawn asked Tara how long she'd thought her sister was cute. She’d pleaded ignorance, but Dawn didn't miss much, so needless to say, it didn't fly. But the girl also had enough sense not to say a word when Buffy came back to the table.

"We were dating, weren't we?" she asked Buffy as she entered the sun room connected to the kitchen, carrying their hot chocolates.

"Oh yeah," Buffy agreed from the sofa, turning away from the window closest to her. Windows lined the room, letting one appreciate winter from warm surroundings. "Just without the kissing or acknowledging or...getting people jealous at the Bronze. But nobody else has to know that we knew. Dawn'll milk it for weeks."

Tara laughed, handing Buffy a mug and sitting beside her. As she ran the words back, she felt her cheeks go hot. "You wanted to get people jealous at the Bronze? H..." Was that her voice sounding husky? "How?"

Buffy choked on liquefied cocoa. Following this, she sat it on the window sill just to be safe, as Tara smacked her on the back. "Uh, let's-let's just say there were many vacations to 'Fantasy Land' in my head."

Tara copied Buffy's good idea and put her cocoa also on the sill. "Unless you wanna be really stubborn about what counted as a date? I think we’ve probably had enough that...that it's okay to tell your girlfriend about the kinds of things she was, you know, doing in ‘Fantasy Land’."

Odds were, it went beyond floating in the air while slow dancing.

Buffy hadn't gone for another sip, which Tara was grateful for--she feared there would've been more choking. She watched a myriad of emotions and reactions ripple across her girlfriend's face, and knew them all. Elation, disbelief, hesitation, embarrassment, nervousness, worry, desire...love, all played out in seconds.

Then _she_ was the kissed this time. Needingly, like something had awoken that'd hibernated far too long.

And that was true for her, too. Willow and Kennedy certainly charged the air, but it wasn't them Tara thought about--it was her and the woman now in her lap, whose neck she had both arms around. What she saw in her mind’s eye was quite the turn on, and knowing she hadn't been alone in that mental place turned her on more.

This trumped heaven. Why? Because it was real; the feelings were real. Cordelia described heavens as "dimensions jacked up on Prozac" once. Nice places, but the contentment they provided was artificial. Like a drug. Maybe it was because she was more mystically-attuned than most, or because she'd been quite content alive on earth, but Tara sensed how things weren't exactly genuine.

So _not_ the case here.

When she started kissing along Buffy's throat and her palms settled on Buffy's ass, the woman came up for oxygen with a moan.

"Isn't too...too fast, is it?" Buffy managed to ask before kissing her again, quick and crushing, speaking in the breaks. "Because...love you, but...slow with...romantic...later. Want you, and...can't...Mm...wait. Now."

Tara reached and pulled off Buffy's shoes, letting them fall to the floor. Then her hands traveled up to Buffy's waist, and surprising herself, she lifted and laid Buffy down. While Buffy's arms went back above her head, hanging over the arm of the sofa, Tara straddled her lower half before leaning down and stretching out over her upper. 

A memory of Miss Kitty flashed in Tara’s brain.

Their fingers met, fitting together without protest. Tara's position also left their faces inches apart, eyes searching each other--she saw in hazel, what must have been reflected in her blue. Confident in that, speed became a non-issue. Fast, slow...it happened whatever way it happened. And she wanted to touch Buffy as badly as Buffy wanted to touch her.

But first, she had one quibble.

"I'm in Europe. With an amazing, beautiful woman who just, said she loves me. And the first time I get to see how beautiful she is everywhere, there's snow falling all around us."

Outside the windows. Semantics.

"What isn't romantic about that?" Tara grinned that grin, her breath tickling the nose below, causing it to crinkle. "In a few minutes, she'll wonder why the hell she ever wanted those boys, or their poor parts...until she can’t, because I’ll be loving her back. Everywhere."

Buffy bit the corner of her lip at this whispered news, half-suppressing a whimper. Then she bent her knee, bringing it up between Tara's thighs. Someone's breath hitched. "Sofa."

"Gods..." Tara gasped, hands squeezing harder, eyelids fluttering. "What?"

"Isn't romantic. Or the comfiest," came Buffy’s delayed answer, but not unwelcome pressure kept Tara foggy on her own question. "Good thing it’s a bed sometimes, huh?"

Tara’s eyes opened as she grinned again. That she comprehended.

 

_______

 

The gang thought Buffy was strange, adding a sunroom to the back of the house. This was England--the country sunlight shunned. What was the point, they'd asked, of all those windows letting in dreary rain all the time? They probably figured it was where she went to be bleak and depressed or something. Nah.

Crater-gazing eight months ago, she literally saw a big circle. Saw the big picture Tara had insisted on. The worldwide activation of slayers tipped the scales, taking away any chance for the First to disrupt the delicate balance of Good and Evil in its favor. However, Buffy’s actions, plus Spike's destruction of the Hellmouth, tipped the scales too far in theirs.

What had been concentrated evil got distributed in smaller doses around the world.

Having it click on a grand scale made seeing the simpler instances of balance, of why things happened, a cinch. There was comfort in knowing everything existed in harmony. For that reason, she loved being outside, walking humbly among nature, whenever she could. And when the weather was bad enough to deter her--or when she was just lazy--this room let her feel like she was out there.

Watching thunderstorms was awesome. But with snow at the moment, Tara was right again. It was romantic. And balanced.

Cold on one side of the windows...not so cold on the other. She had her back to them on the sofa-turned-bed, a faint chill on her skin, but she was much too focused to care. Buffy knelt in the space between Tara’s spread legs, hands shaking as she reached around to unzip a dress. Revealing the body underneath for the first time? Absolutely a fantasy.

Because they needed to stop to fold out the sofa, things calmed down. Well, Tara getting her completely naked as soon as they hit the mattress happened pretty fast. Other than that though, Buffy was seeing the value in slow. She wanted this part to last; something Tara wasn’t making easy.

She didn't know why, but in the fantasy, she pictured Tara being still while she went about her reverential task. In reality, hands tangled in her hair, and a mouth alternated between her stomach and the outer edges of her breasts. A combination of lips, tongue and suction had her so...

Every sensation hummed through her, echoing long after others followed.  Tara wasn't rough or hurried in her ministrations, just skilled and enthusiastic. Yeah, she’d been lost in this particular activity for quite a bit. Buffy wouldn't be able to stay upright much longer.

Like she read minds, Tara changed tactics. A hand slid down Buffy’s back and over her lower-right cheek, before four fingers finally grazed along her folds from underneath.

"Geeoooshit!" Buffy cried out at the jolt, and collapsed forward, making Tara fall backwards. "Oh my god, Tare."

Tara began chuckling, and as her body shook, the vibrations weren't unpleasant for Buffy. "'Geeoooshit?'"

"Hey! 'Happy petal' touching hasta have a warning next time," Buffy glare-smiled.

Blushing at the throaty laughter she heard in response, she began to explain. "When I was thirteen, there was a library book in school...a very 'Judy Blume'-y book...about a girl discovering her um,'Wow Potential.' And she gave everything...names." Beat. "It's been 'PTA-banned' since, though. Was kinda descriptive."

Tara's eyes sparkled. "What did she call this?"

Buffy watched her lift glistening fingers to her mouth. "'Water,' I-I think. That her 'flower' made for itself. 'Cause all flowers...need watering."

She swallowed hard as those fingers gained entry past her girlfriend's lips.

"Mm...she never drank any, then," deduced Tara, lips quirking after she sampled them with her tongue. "You taste so much better than plain-old water, sweetie."

Buffy’s mouth ran dry, a fresh wave of arousal crashing over her. "Speaking of next times? The next time I say you suck? Be complimented."

Buffy kissed Tara hard and rolled them over, putting her girlfriend on top. As Tara sat up, if it weren't for a thin layer of cotton, there'd be...geez...a ”happy petal” connection. Perhaps even a touching of buds. Becoming aware of it, Buffy half-growled, half-groaned.

She immediately used her hands to finally slip the dress down off Tara's shoulders. Inch by inch (with help) she exposed a bra-covered chest that left her stunned. And jealous. Tara's full, curvy figure made her the womanliest woman she’d ever seen. Buffy was mesmerized by how sexy, how erotic, how...much she needed to expand her vocabulary.

"You're sorta perfect."

That would have to do.

Then Tara unclasped the bra, and set it aside.

Buffy blinked. "'Tara Breasts.' Breasts of Tara."

Tara smiled, for the first time seeming shy. At her sides, her arms fidgeted like they wanted to cover something. A pair of somethings.

Buffy held them still. "Uh-uh, no. My turn. Dunno if you know this, but I can learn pretty damn quick when motivated." She pulled Tara down again, and looked right at her targets. "And I really, _really_ fucking am right now."

As she began to mimic Tara's earlier attentions, she heard sounds of approval.

"I..." Tara wasn’t expecting the tiny nip Buffy threw in for variety. "...geeahhohfuck believe you."

Buffy chuckled around the flesh that occupied her so. Such soap-worthy language they used.


	4. Part Four

|-Sunnydale, April 2002-|

 

Buffy sat on her bed, back to the headboard, surrounded by her stuffed animal collection. She heard her friend come to a stop inside the doorway, but didn't meet her eyes. She'd intentionally stayed secluded for most of the day. After her "homicidal incident" this morning, she could only bear to have conversations with Mr. Gordo, which probably didn't inspire confidence in her sanity.

"Wanna thumb wrestle?" Tara inquired lightly.

Buffy smiled despite herself, and spoke to the stuffed pig, "You're lucky you have hooves, Mr. Gordo. If you had fingers that were bendable? That sneaky wicca over there would sucker you in and crush 'em. Her hands're...really strong. And I could've broken them. 'Broke' being the best-case, pain-wise."

She forced herself to look up as Tara walked farther into the room. "I'm so sorry."

"You went to a place where your mom was alive and still married to your dad. Where demons weren't real, and you didn't have to fight them," said Tara, sitting on the side of the bed. "If it was me? And I saw my...?"

She exhaled. "Leaving would've been so har-hard."

Buffy grabbed Tara's hand and smiled sympathetically, then shook her head. "But it wasn't real. I served up the only people in the world who matter to me, to a demon, 'cause of hallucinations. From 'mystical acid.'"

"Maybe they weren't." Tara’s suggestion led Buffy to goggle. "We know there’re other dimensions, right? I’m even allergic to one...or I would be. But, what if the poison opened a link between you, and an...‘Alternate Buffy,’ in a _different_ world?  Her consciousness, yours...they could’ve been shifting back and forth.

“Then you fought it," she said firmly, laying her hand on Buffy's knee. "You fought it, killed the demon, took his antidote, and we're all okay. And we all still...love you."

A new smile grew large on Buffy's face at those last words, her thumb making circles on the back of Tara's hand. She was pretty sure she could tell subtext from regular-text.

"I still love everybody, too," she swore, and the glowing smile back just bolstered her confidence in her text-telling prowess. "But I was tempted for way too long. I should've..."

She was berating herself. "After putting all this work in, with you helping and being there and showing me...I _barely_ passed a giant test. There's gonna be others, and 'barely' won't keep cuttin' it."

"Buffy, you just said you loved us back. And we must be using a lot of room," Tara nodded at where her friend's heart was, "if you turned down a normal life to stay here," she pointed out, trying to get Buffy to see how big of a deal it was. "Think about what that means."

Buffy did as bade, and it was rather anti-climatic. Could be she needed to change her definition of "barely."

Her brain shouted, _'It's about time you caught up! Think we can be maybe back in sync now?'_

"Nothing's wrong with me," said Buffy aloud, and was certain.

She knew it the night she cried into Tara's skirt (her brain did, anyway) but now her heart knew it.

"I'm alive, and I wanna stay. I wanna be 'ultra-supportive best friend gal' for Xander," Which she had to because doubts and fears made him leave Anya at the altar, "I wanna have mochas with Will and hear her babble about classes I don't understand the names of, and, oh god, I think I even wanna make cupcakes for the bake sale at Dawn's school." She recovered from that run-on sentence while Tara laughed. "There's nothing wrong with me, Tara."

"Duh," teased Tara as she congratulated her with a hug. "No offense." Beat. "And I know you'll keep getting better. Bitch isn’t so tough."

"Not with my guider guiding." Laughing as Tara probably hoped she would, Buffy breathed her in. She always did, when they were close. "How lame was her face paint?"

Earthy, that's how Tara smelled. “Welcome back.”

The reason her heart knew anything, was because Tara warmed it back up. That was a fact. Not just the emotions of a girl in heavy smit.

Buffy said as the hug ended, "Yay for you being back, too."

That's why Tara had come over. And been in a position to get hurt. What came next she couldn't hold in.

"But you can still un-accept. Yeah, there was begging, but if you wanna run? Far away? You could. Because, now that you and Willow aren't 'You and Willow,' where're you gonna sleep? Why didn't I think about this?"

A quick, "Don't start sucking" stare, and Buffy zipped it.

"I told Dawn I'd sleep on the couch until we figured something out, but she said I was taking her bed or else. And her 'or elses' get a little...scary. Creative, but, scary," Tara smirked. "She unpacked my things already, and hid all the cardboard boxes--I can't go anywhere. I don't want to."

"I don't want you to, either. You're home," said Buffy seriously, attempting to quiet her nerves.

It was just, if something worse than today...no. Happy thoughts.

"Hey, how'd your presentation go? Know you were nervous. Public speaking and all."

"Good. Hopefully good," Tara answered positively. "Everybody liked Willow's PowerPoint, and saying it in front of you first--and her and Dawnie--really did help me relax," she smiled gratefully. "Thanks for sitting through it; 'The History of Engraving' is pretty dry if you're not into it. Dr. Redd didn't give anyone a choice."

"What're you talking about? You were great. I learned about chisels. Absolutely no dryness; couldn't get any wetter."

Her eyes bugged, while Tara, thank cripes, pushed them away from that can of worms. "We-we should, head downstairs. Everyone's been waiting to see you. And because we couldn't this morning? I made coffee. I know we usually have hot chocolate, but--"

Buffy forgot her dangerous words lickety-split, springing off the bed. "Then we'll mix. Both have to be drunk." Her brow furrowed. "Drinked." No, that wasn't it. "Drank?"

"Drinken?" Tara tried, following.

"Ehh, now it's gonna bug," frowned Buffy, and when she spoke in the hallway, she was hushed. "We should set Willow up on a date, don'tcha think?"

The subtextual motive there was, _'So I, a selfish, selfish Buffy, can date you.'_

Tara nodded. "Soon."

If Buffy had any doubts about Tara's feelings, they'd just been erased. On the stairs, she was back to normal volume. "Wait. There might actually be a catatonic 'Buffy' in an institution somewhere?" This only made her more thankful for the life and the people she was going to greet. "Poor Alterna-Me."

 

_______

 

|-Bath, England, Present-|

 

"If you two need to warm up, then that was some amazing acting. I mean, you could almost _hear_ the sweat--how'd you do that?" Kennedy said with a wink as she walked into the kitchen wearing an oversized shirt that she just threw on, by the looks of it.

Then, taking the blondes in, the brow above that winking eye lifted. They were wrapped in blankets, preparing to reheat neglected hot chocolates in the microwave. Tara stood behind Buffy, arms tight around her waist.

"Guess my girl's safe," grinned Kennedy, getting two bottles of water from the fridge. "Will told me, but...the Boss? In the club? Didn't believe it. My intuition's gotta be on the fritz."

"They call you 'Boss'?" Tara asked bemusedly, kissing the top of her girlfriend's head.

"No, they call me 'Ma'am,'” clarified Buffy. “It’s so...'geeyuh.'"

That noise went along with her shudder, and the similarity to one earlier, made Tara go rosy.

"They make me feel forty-five," Buffy grumbled after reopening her eyes post-"head kiss" to glare at the younger slayer. "Kennedy just likes being a pain in my ass whenever she can get away with--meaning, when Willow's not around. This time ‘cause she’s recouping like we’re recouping. From how many times, Tare?"

"Maybe six?" Tara pretended to mull, and blamed Buffy's competitive streak for being so contagious. “No, seven. It was definitely seven. Between the both of us."

Kennedy scoffed, silently saying, "Yeah, right," at the nonchalant answer.

"Yeah, 'cause of that once. With the...yeah," nodded Buffy, playing along. "Sorry, tried to keep us even, but, less experience." She looked apologetic. "If only I had an understanding, patient, huge-hearted expert in 'girl satisfaction,' training me."

Sighing heavily, she waited a moment to continue.  "Other important things? Front'n'back sides equally cushy--'back' because, sexy; 'front' because...she'd make a seriously better pillow than your standard traditional."

She held a finger upon her own lips in thought. "Blond...blue eyes that look so far in they see aura...and a smile that women historically faithful to 'boy parts' suddenly wanna be kissing," she finished, before letting another heavy, dejected sigh go. "But what're the chances?" Then she grinned. "Oh, wait."

Kennedy squinted, like she was studying Tara's girlfriend as she would a bug under a microscope. "Who is she? 'Cause that isn't Buffy,” she declared. "She's being cute...and _corny_. It's like she knows how to relax or something."

She cocked her head to the side. "Well, it is only supposed to take _one_ , good--"

"Kenn, why aren't you back ye...?" Willow said with a yawn, shuffling into the kitchen in a blue robe and “Woodstock” slippers.

Her eyes zeroed in on the two women in blankets.

"Oops. Hey there, you...potty-mouthed friends of me." Then her eyes quickly went from them to her girlfriend, who she knew had nothing on except that long shirt. She raised her hand. "Am-am I interrupting 'future kinky'?"

"For them maybe," Kennedy handed Willow a bottle of water and held her possessively, "but I'm spoken for. Have all the 'goddess' I could want,” she promised, kissing her girl deeply. "And, a night down the Boss would get out. Can't let my grunts think I'm her bitch."

Buffy's brow could've touched the roof. " _We're_ the potty-mouthed?"

Tara's as well, feeling plenty possessive herself. "Some of those words I went my whole life never even knowing. Until tonight," she teased Willow. "Vixen."

"Us too," Willow responded back, and then succumbed to a blush.

Seeing her ex on someone else's arm--not just from above--in a situation like this, she had to take it in. Would've happened eventually in Sunnydale (with everyone close-quartered), but...events, had it happening here. To _know_ the person you used to be in love with had moved on was one thing, but to view the intimacy up close and say to yourself, "That used to be me"? Separate experience all together.

She wasn't regretting anything; that would've been a complicated leap backwards. No, she remained thrilled for Willow. Kennedy, though bratty and having no shortage of commentary, obviously had only adoring eyes for her. Given the way Willow was being gripped, Kennedy was also obviously the dominant one in their relationship.

When Tara was with her, that role was Willow's. Kennedy's slayer nature was the easy explanation, but weak. Because if it were true, Buffy wouldn't have let Tara take the lead through just about everything. She had ideas about why they surrendered control, Willow and Buffy both, but standing here naked under a blanket and doing psychoanalysis? Maybe later.

What she was doing, was realizing how far Willow had come. Her once lover had always been powerful, but having the darkest (as well as the purest) magicks course through her, only to emerge stronger, made her probably the most powerful witch in the world. There was no arrogance, however. Just a calm balance.

If her "shy face" was any indication, Willow had no idea how much of a force the Powers considered her to be. Or she did, and allowed Kennedy to ground her, having someone she didn't need to fill those big shoes for. Same reasoning could apply to Buffy in fact, and...and without meaning to, somebody was getting kind of psychoanalytical.

So, satisfied that Willow had reached the place she herself had in her last lifetime, Tara finished reflecting. Love would always be there--like Buffy had for Angel, and Kennedy for who'd ever come before--but they each had new people.

Buffy had her heart now, which the Powers knew when they offered her the Cordelia-arranged "transfer."

"Uh...you-you don't need a coach, do you?" Willow asked Buffy, and Kennedy stared in shock. "Nononono...I was gonna use diagrams! One-hundred percent, 'No hands' coaching! An-and no to anything not hands! ‘No' theme, see?" she smiled weakly. "Remember, 'kite string.'"

Her heart was with Kennedy.

"Go ahead. Tell them your big fantasy where you watc..." Kennedy's stare was still peeved, but it wandered. "...watch them be freaking hot."

Tara didn't know what possessed her. Probably the same hell-spawn that made her call Buffy "beautiful" that first night. But damn it, her girlfriend's neck was right there; it was the side still pristine and not marred by vampires.

The hair she’d moved aside reminded Tara of how Buffy wore it that first semester before Joyce passed. Long, wavy, and more of a brownish-blond. Her fingers loved running through it...but another activity kept her and her mouth busy instead.

Buffy's knees buckled, but she got steadied, rope and all. "What're you--?"

"Pulse-check," mumbled Tara, kissing down her neck to her shoulder, and up again.

"Gonna..." Buffy hummed, though she'd shown her approval the entire time. "...flirt with me?"

"Gonna do so much."

Tara had missed physicality. Especially this kind, but even so, she stopped. Much to everyone's dismay.

“As soon as it’s not so crowded.” She looked to the gawkers. "It's okay, Willow. I've got her...and somebody's got you."

Willow nodded on a continuous loop. Perhaps her brain had broke.

"C'mon, they're not beating us," Kennedy swore.

In the moments before she dragged Willow back upstairs, Tara met her eyes: _'Thank you.'_ Releasing Buffy, Tara hoped that was conveyed through the horniness.

"They think we're hot," grinned Buffy on Tara's lips, prior to kissing her. Her next stop was an earlobe, but she held up. "' _Kite string_ '? And _I'm_ corny?"

She rolled her eyes, then quickly returned to the ear, and dragged her fingers across Tara's back and past blanket. This went on for a good fifteen seconds until, "Let's hurry with the microwave. Kinda wanna hit 'seven' for real now."

Tara was happy to give control to Buffy in order to meet that challenge. Her new lover, if she had to sum in a word? Thorough. And wow, she'd just necked her in front of Willow, hadn't she? They'd have to talk tomorrow.

"Before Willow came in, did you really...mean everything you said?" Tara asked, stepping aside to let Buffy work the microwave.

"Every last all of it. That part wasn't for Kennedy," Buffy told her sincerely. "And I had more. Like how I'd watch you do anything.

“Folding laundry? I'm there. Shopping for the readiest-to-ripen pear in the whole produce section? There. Ordering Chinese, but asking the guy his name first and how his day's going? There. Laughing at Jim Carrey movies for some reason...think you get it," she bashfully smiled. "I am corny, aren't I?"

"There're worse things to be." Tara had something in her eye as she smiled back. "So, you think I have a big butt?" Her lips turned downside-up. "Oh, sorry. I meant 'cushy.'"

"Buwhasna?" What were three words became a mashing into one, and it took a minute for Buffy to restart. "Okay, 'big' and 'cushy'? Two unique, differently-said words. If you don’t know that, then you had a third-grade-teaching fraud. Who I bet was nicknamed 'Mrs. Cathead.'"

She pressed on after a strategic pause. "A butt can be just-right, and feel plenty 'cushy' still. Which yours proves. Or else Jennifer Lopez's is bony."

The microwave beeped, and Buffy got out the mugs.

After being given hers, Tara stared much in the same way Kennedy had. "Already checking out other girls? That's awfully sucky."

Buffy closed her eyes and breathed deep. "Why couldn't you've heard the part about how I wanna kiss you when you smile? Geez."

When her eyes opened again, Tara made sure she was. Smiling.

"Willow was right,” sighed Buffy. “You're so easy to fall for. Even at your suckiest."

As she kissed her, Buffy pulled the blanket from Tara's body in a swift motion, and raked her eyes over what she saw.

"Buffy!" Tara exclaimed, sharp but soft, cupping what she could with her only available hand. This had a slight drawback in that her quivering wasn't from the cold.

"What? I'm checking." Buffy grinned, drank, and then started walking back to bed. "Coming with?"

There were a few different answers to _that_ question.

"Unless you want Xander to have a heart attack in five hours when he's craving Pop Tarts."  

Tara hurried behind. It was time to get that control back.

 

_______

 

|-Sunnydale, May 2002-|

 

Tara had been in the house twelve days, 14.2 hours, and eight minutes. Willow was glad. They'd all been getting back to being a family again for a while, but Tara living there made it official. Miraculously over the last weeks, there’d even been family dinners. They were in the supermarket fetching tonight's.

But before coming here, she and Tara had spent a good portion of the day comparing unmarked schematics Buffy rescued from Warren’s, Jonathan’s, and the other one’s basement "lair," with the copies on file at the county clerk's office. About this time tomorrow, if they were right, the nerds were going to rob an armored car. The key being "tomorrow," which was a lucky break. Dinner was important, especially because they’d invited Xander.

The "Scooby Women" (minus an un-ex-demon who had cancelled her membership) were in better spirits, while he wasn't even close. Learning about Buffy and Spike, then seeing Anya and Spike...it was kind of a setback in their efforts to help him. And the saddest part was, he and Buffy hadn't been speaking. The whole gang needed a re-bonding night.

"I didn't think we'd be so long," said Tara, moving faster than she would have otherwise.

She was going to make a Chicken Caesar Salad--she had everything but pre-cut, pre-cooked chicken and rolls. Walking down the refrigerated aisle, they scoured for the former.

"It did sorta turn into a 'whole day' mission," agreed Willow. "We had far-driving, then had to make up the not-exactly-most-truest-story of how we got our copy..."

It was one lie away from, "they fell off a truck."

"...then we waited for tiny, grandpa Otis to find which ones matched." She frowned. "His knees were so shaky. Like those windup teeth."

"Got it," Tara smiled, grabbing the Purdue-brand, re-sealable bag. Her words were near breathless.

"Could take a night off, y'know," Willow suggested, thinking that her ex was putting too much pressure on herself. "We can order pizzas! Who doesn't like a pizza? They're universally yummy."

"No." Tara was kind of firm there, but placing her find in the cart, she dialed it back. "No, she..." She appeared to catch herself. "...we all need to eat better."

Willow looked like she found that a little odd. "Hey, I’m so ‘nutrition girl.’ How much potassium's in ten, banana bushels? Quiz me."

Tara gave another smile, and they were on the move to the bakery. "Remember last time? You wouldn't let me stop. I lost count of how many questions there were."

"Uh...what last time?" Willow looked embarrassingly away. "I think you should lay down; today's, whew," Her finger made a circle beside her head, "made you loopy."

A beat followed, then they both laughed. It was that old, familiar feeling, and she just blurted, "Do you miss us?"

When Tara halted the cart, they were at the milk and the eggs. "Every day."

Willow felt really good just then. "Sure you're sure?"

The stare she got in return was the same she'd gotten from Oz: "I'll always love you, but..."

"Sorry. That's my final try. Care Bear swear," she promised.

"Have-have you thought about trying to, meet people?"

Willow’s brow went scrunchy at the question. It eventually hit her like a hundred mile an hour Nerf football blasted from a cannon. Her eyes grew large.

" _Oh_. Meeting in a 'hey,'" She did her best sexy voice at that word, "way. Definitely still a big nope. I’m not ready yet."

"...Maybe meeting somebody could help--"

Nerf football strike number two?

"You are. You’ve met,” realized Willow. "Do you meet a lot? Has she already heard the 'centipede' story? You can't be there yet, can you? Not-not that you hafta tell me anything, because, why the heck wouldja? We have separate businesses now, and they're on different streets and I don't even wanna know."

Her babble over, she realized something else. "Goddess, I should be. Right? Should've a long time ago, but I've just been--"

"Only when you're ready." Tara rested a calming hand on Willow’s shoulder.

That shoulder, plus the other, sagged.

"When's 'when'?"

Probably when she wasn't looking.

"Um, hi guys. Am I late?" Buffy walked up gingerly, having just come off patrol and clearly holding back a grimace.

Tara was immediately at her side, seeing Buffy was hurt. "What happened?"

Buffy held up her right palm, and made a fist out of her left. "Me," Fist punched palm, "tombstone." She reached around to try to massage her lower back.

"You should be at the house. You're hurt."

"But," Buffy began to argue, "said I'd meet you. I'm fi--"

"Go relax, Buffy. Take a hot bath," ordered Tara. "We're almost done anyway."

Willow was suddenly very interested in watching the two.

"Yes, ma'am," smiled Buffy softly. A smile echoed by Tara.

Why'd this seem so...? Oooooh boy. Tara liked...Did Buffy...? No, that was...no. Though Willow’s mind? Going there.

"See ya at home, Will," Buffy was saying. "I'm going before Tara makes me regret not."

"Wha...?" Willow had to snap her mind back to the here and now. "Home...right. Home's great. Soaking, too. Yep, love soaking myself." Her face got warm. "Um, bye, Buffy."

Taking away the various emotions she was feeling at her revelation--that the love of her life felt something for the _other_ best friend she’d had a secret crush on once--and getting past wanting to cry, Willow was left with pleasing thoughts and images of naughty.

Thoughts she was having in front of the milk. And eggs. Innocent, cute, little eggs. She was so ashamed.

 

_______

 

|-Bath, England, Present-|

 

"D’you think about it?" Buffy asked quietly as they lay beneath their blankets on the bed, all sexed out.

She was drained. Sapped of any and all energy. Without muscle use. Her and Riley’s ghost-fueled, marathon of a romp hadn’t even left her this tired. That's all it had been--a fun romp. This was something else.

Legs entangled, both women faced each other, heads sharing a pillow. Buffy’s hand brushed along Tara’s hair, gently tucking it behind her ear. But fingers were still learning new geography. A cheek. A mouth that rewarded exploration with a kiss as tips feathered across.

This was something else.

"About what?" Tara asked in return.

"You know what." Buffy pushed out a breath. "But you're gonna make me say."

"You should...if you wanna talk about it."

Buffy considered backpedaling, but that never worked. "I do, and then I...really don't, because that day was..."

Constantly horrible, devastating, and eventually--

"...gone. It's gone, and you're back. Why go dredging?" she explained, condensing. "Besides, the timing's a landfill of stinks. 'Pillow talk' it isn't."

Why was Buffy surprised then, when Tara gripped the pillow like she was prepared to yank it from beneath their heads?

"Don't punish the pillow--isn't 'mattress talk,' either."

"I remember it was my turn to make the beds," said Tara, evidently paying her no mind. "Willow's was biggest, so I did hers first."

Buffy’s gaze didn’t waver while her girlfriend spoke. Tara always worked her way from toughest to easiest. That day, that admirable trait helped cost her life.

"When I was done, I went to the window to check on you, and saw Xander. I was so glad you two were making up.

"Then I saw Warren, but I guess it happened fast, because I don't...I don't think it hurt,” Tara told her reassuringly. "What I remember most? Is how angry at myself I was for the night before. I made you go home, and Spike almost--"

The not-bullet proof slayer, for her part, just remembered the smell of the grass. Lying bleeding on her back, she’d been unaware of what happened inside the house.

"You didn't make him try." Buffy found Tara’s hand over by her thigh, and captured it.

"And you didn't make him shoot me." Tara squeezed back.

"Spike didn't...oh."

Now that the other important person in her life who'd died and resurrected was mentioned, Buffy couldn't avoid weaving off-topic. She did so nervously.

"Do you know that we, meaning me and Spike, kind of...bonded, after he came back from his soul-getting safari?" She didn't wait for a reply. "S' hard to describe really, because we didn't...but there was caring. Pretty deep caring. And he was just...what I needed. Then.

"He's still in here though," She pointed at her "heart" area, "and, I dunno what I'm accomplishing. Other than more ‘not-pillow talk.’"

"You went through a lot together," Tara understood, not bothered by this. "I wasn't always watching, but I know how important he was. That doesn't just go away."

Then her understanding expression changed as she gave a playful, somewhat insecure warning. "But he better be comfortable in that file cabinet, because you're mine now. That clear?" A quiet nod was her answer. "I hope you're ready for us."

"Been ready. How I feel about you, and how I started to about Spike? Not the same," Buffy needed to emphasize. "As soon as it looked like we were hopefully gonna have an eventually? Promised myself I'd commit. Even when people who aren't named ‘Buffy’ might’ve thought it wasn’t healthy. But paid off, so...hah," she smirked mildly.

"Anyway, here's me. Being fully committed to my girlfriend. In bed and out of."  

"I’m almost convinced," said Tara, her half-grin as exhausted as the rest of her.

A narrow-eyed Buffy cared not about exhaustion. Though her head never left pillow, she forced her bedmate’s tongue to greet hers for close to a minute. “’Almost,’ she says.”

 Panting and flush all over again, Tara asked, "Are you sure you and Faith never got drunk and--?"

"Would've put a huge hole right through that ‘staying committed’ idea," Buffy reminded, looking stung. "Turns out girl-sex is easy if ya know what you're looking for. And I do--eleven years of self-practice."

"Stop trying to distract me," Tara accused lightly, because goddess help her, she wanted to be. But no, she was in control. "What're you really thinking?"

"You mean besides...?" Buffy trailed off at the now infamous glare, as Tara anticipated the guilt trip. "Wow, I even missed 'Ticked Tara.'" Beat. "What I remember the most? After I wasn't shot anymore? Is how much I hated that you had to die alone."

Willow had just been getting back from her “Spellcasters Anonymous” meeting when they were loading Buffy into the ambulance. Xander was too focused on her to think about checking on Tara, but that was the first thing Willow did. She found her ex in the bedroom, beyond saving. But she tried anyway. And then "Dark Willow" happened.

"By the time Xander and I got back to the house, Dawn was sitting there, then more sirens didn't give a damn, and all I could think was, 'She died alone.'”

Tara was going to interrupt, but Buffy didn't stop.

"Until I heard my sister. She was so angry; she wanted Warren to die. _I_ wanted Warren to die. Except, I knew you wouldn't, even with what he did, and I knew we couldn't let Willow go that far." Beat. "Not like it mattered, 'cause we were too late."

 _'Maybe it had to happen,'_ she thought.

Closing her eyes a second, she wished what she said next wasn't true. "Things got worse, but...you dying made me realize how very a lot I didn't wanna lose anyone else."

Why did death have to be what snapped everything into focus? Whether good or bad?  

Buffy thought like Willow in that way. Sure, she backslid that last year in Sunnydale, yet she managed in the end. Having Tara there might've helped the transition to army leader go less bumpy, but instead, she had to rely on memories, find "Buffy" again on her own, and connect to those girls.

Spike was what she needed after being ousted from her own home. Hearing how he saw her, how he truly felt...it was a timely mood booster. She also took her friends’ mutinous words to heart. Rather than shut down, she recognized the truth in them. She chose to break out of the seven-year circle she'd continually gone in.

Buffy altered the world, became self-actualized, and her mental health was at a solid, 82.7%. They were important, her accomplishments. But the woman who led her through the darkest period of her life was important too. Only, Tara died alone, body growing cold on a bedroom floor until hours later. If Tara had to die, just as Willow had to go vein-y, then she deserved better than that.

Buffy let her eyes do all that talking for her. "I'm sorry."

Even if events hadn’t been under her control, she needed to apologize. She wasn't looking to debate. Her girlfriend wasn’t either.

Tara brushed a stray strand away from Buffy's face, and kissed forehead. "Well at least I'm," she smiled sheepishly, breaking the quiet, "here now."

Buffy gave her a look that said she’d raised this same point earlier. "And not alone. Ever again, by the way."

Kissing went from forehead back to lips. Seemed like the thing to do.

"We should start a club. Open for all, 'non-zombie' resurrected people. I don't care how small our minority is; we have rights." When Buffy saw Tara half-elsewhere despite the smile, she knew her turn had come. "Whatcha thinkin'?"

"Noth--"

"If it's about the other shoe, you'd tell me...right?"


	5. Part Five

The sun was two hours from awake when Faith slipped in the back door/sunroom entrance, not expecting to see her sister slayer and still occasional rival, sleeping there. With a girl. Probably naked too, under those sheets. Her eyebrow-raise of surprise gave way to a grin--about time. Then she continued to the kitchen, because responsibility made her hungry, and the return trip? Wasn't doing that again.

Tossing her backpack through to the dining room and landing it somewhere in the living room, she turned her attentions to the fridge. More specifically, to raiding the fridge. Hearing Buffy enter minutes later, she poked her head out, took in the ruffled, thrown-on tank top and drawstring flannels, and asked smirkingly, "Who's the dirty blonde?"

Buffy smiled completely involuntarily, but didn’t answer. She watched Faith gather all the remaining lunchmeat and plop it onto the counter. "When'd you get back?"

"Just."

Out came the mayo and mustard--dark--before Faith shouldered shut the fridge.

"You drove in a blizzard? From Scotland?" Buffy looked over at the clear sky through the window. "Or not. Still, bad roads and--"

"Got the mystics t' beam me express. I'm wicked jetlagged."

Faith sat on the stool at the counter, moved her neck in a circle until she heard the pops, and began to prepare her feast.

"We have mystics now?" Buffy asked in wonderment.

"We have every damn thing, B."

"Neat." The next thing Buffy watched Faith do was make four, quad-decker, turkey-ham-roast beef-and-salami sandwiches. "You're not really..."

Faith took the first victim into her hands, and positioned her fingers appropriately. "Like hell I ain't."

"You used all the bread!"

Faith ignored the accusation, choosing to eat. "Should consider movin' the troops. There's this bad-ass castle _beggi_ ng to be Main HQ. We ever got attacked, defending this place is gonna be--"

"Is this because you watched Lord of the Rings with Andrew when you were in Italy?" Buffy interrupted with a knowing smirk, sitting on the opposite side of the counter. Faith became like a deer in headlights. "Yeah, I heard."

Cheeks puffed with food and Buffy still deciphered Faith's next words:

"I was bored! And we had downtime!"

It was time to take the conversational reigns. Which Faith did. Once she swallowed.

"Still waitin' for an answer."

"She's Tara."

Faith had never bought the whole "glowing" thing. But then, she'd never let herself be in a position _to_ buy that particular cliché. Wasn't the type. Buffy was however, and the last time she'd seen her this happy, there’d been a crater. It was a rare sight--Tara must've been fantastic.

Hang on, why'd that name sound familiar?

"Wasn't she--?"

Willow's or dead, she wasn't sure how she'd intended to finish.

"Not anymore," Buffy cut her off.

From the immediately somber expression on Buffy's face, maybe it was better Faith hadn't finished. Chestnut eyebrows went up, and she shrugged. "Yo, there any Dr. Pepper left?"

What'd she care about why Buffy left her lover's arms to sit in a goddamn kitchen and have some stupid chat? When she did eventually learn why, through no fault of her own most likely, she'd probably want to kick Buffy's ass. Not that that was new.

She stared expectantly until Buffy went to the fridge to fetch beverage. Buffy did it wordlessly, with just a sigh and shake of the head. It beat Faith as to when she’d developed this kind of power, but it was awesome. No way was she going to jinx it.

Less than a minute later, she reached up and caught the can thrown at the back of her head. "Think we met. Me and her."

"Technically. But it shouldn't count," stated Buffy while she sat back down, the smallest sliver of "Still Not Over It" to her words.

Oh. The body swap.

Faith just cast her gaze downward and took another bite. "So, uh, Willow do it?"

"A mother country of no." Buffy nipped that in the bud, and was quickly distracted by the disturbing sight of Faith chugging soda. Capped with carbonation's loud expulsion. "Tell me your secret to getting guys this whole time hasn't been out-belching them."

Faith casually flipped her off. "Be happy to demo 'The Skills' up close and personal...but I wouldn't wanna rub your honey the wrong way," she winked. "So what's the deal? She bring you all in? Y'know, to the fold?" At the end, there was a barest hint of a plural through closed teeth.

Buffy didn't rise to the bait.

"Can't wait to lay the news on Bob," Faith went on.

"Bob" was Angel's latest spy/intern-promoted-to-spy. They didn't know his real name, therefore Xander dubbed the dude, "Bob." It'd been his turn. Faith liked messing with sad, sad little men before sending them back to LA.  

Buffy's reply was two-fold. First she picked off and consumed a bit of crust, marring one of the sandwiches, much to Faith’s displeasure. Then she spoke.

"Tara says I hafta sit in the 'Bi' corner when we bar-hop." She was serious, forcing Faith to choke on soda and laugh at the same time. "What?"

Buffy was lost. Faith only laughed harder.

"What's the funny?"

While Faith caught her breath, she thought about how much she liked Tara already. In the meantime, Buffy had pieced it together.

"No corner?"

After a final sniggering, nothing was said for a couple minutes.

Until “Somber Buffy” returned. "Cordelia pulled strings. Before she died. Until four hours ago, I was letting myself believe they were unattached strings. Big surprise, they weren't."

"I bet Tara's cold." Faith had pieced together enough to see where this was going.

She didn't know the ins and outs, but she knew Buffy, and Buffy was about to spew some guilt/angst/pessimism-ridden crap. Her pint-size predecessor would screw up the glowing because she couldn't "se la vi" and enjoy. It was like she hoped for screwed. Pissed Faith off.

She wasn't the right person to talk to about this shit anyway.

"Buffy?" Speak of Tara.

They both turned to see her, just as hurriedly dressed, enter the kitchen.

"Hey. Long time," greeted Faith.

"Yeah, um...yeah," said Tara awkwardly, yet politely. "How are you, Faith?"

"See my chow?" Faith gestured to said chow. "Five by five."

"Did we ever find out what that means?" Tara asked her girlfriend, who'd chosen to wisely come to her side.

Buffy's head shook. "Nope. Still a mystery."

"Good. I didn't wanna be out of the loop." There was a clear question in Tara's eyes, but it wasn't the one she was actually asking. "Does she know I'm making pancakes in a little while?"

"Aw, the woman cooks? Better keep her, B. A chick can only take so much Cajun," Faith said playfully, but her stare was anything but. "You were just saying 'Welcome Home,' yeah?"

Buffy decided to shut up and agree. Second, wise choice.

"Oughta take her back to bed. Buffy needs her beauty Zs." Faith knew her mission was accomplished when Buffy glared back at her.

Tara let out a breath when a strong arm went around her waist. "We don't have to."

"When I can't keep my eyes open in the middle of a Giles' meeting later, and probably drool, I know I’m gonna wish we did, but...take a walk with me?" Buffy requested, a reassuring smile spreading. "I'll grab coats."

Faith didn't expect her instructions to be followed to the letter. She would've been disappointed in Buffy if they had. "Know what else'd keep you warm?"

She saw the blondes brace themselves for innuendo--was she becoming predictable? Oh well, se la vi. Once more, a mouthful of food and--

"Pair'a muffs."

To illustrate her meaning, she cupped her hands over her ears.

"We're stable bound," Buffy informed her, successfully resisting another baiting. "Just in case today’s the day Dawn decides to be like her name and get up early for once, promise you’ll tell her. If she can’t find us, she’ll freak. 'Us' mostly meaning Tara."

Faith gave a thumbs up, too ravenous to speak.

 

_______

 

|-Santa Monica Mountains, February 2002-|

 

"Like your present?" Tara asked Buffy as they rode side-by-side along the trail.

Their guide rode ahead, Dawn a little bit behind. It was beautiful out here. Peaceful. Company wasn't bad, either.

"Now that I'm getting...yes, muchly," said Buffy, speaking both of the delay as well as the gift's mechanics. She adjusted her feet in the stirrups and stroked her horse's mane. "Know the secret now--never do anything. Let him handle all steering. He clearly gets the how and the where better than me. Or he's just great at faking."

Her voice lowered. "But he pees like a..." She was going to say, "racehorse," when the age-old saying finally clicked. " _Oh_. Right. 'Cause he'd...do that."

"Is anybody else's butt sore?" her sister asked, making both women turn their heads and grin. "I have like, welts, guys. Seriously."

Since her birthday, life made scheduling Buffy's gift difficult, but a lull in Tara's coursework and Buffy's Doublemeat duty helped today be workable. Quick breakfasts, too brief patrols...all well and good, but a whole day was extremely preferable. It felt like they were trying to cram two years of missed friendship into the last month and a half. Not that there was anything wrong with that.

"You don't have welts." Buffy rolled her eyes.

"How would you know?" Dawn challenged.

"Because you don't."

Now Dawn’s eyes rolled. "It's _my_ butt. I think I probably know what's usually..." At this point, she realized she was outside in public, and got shy. "...supposed to be on it."

"Why? D'you look in a mirror?" Buffy questioned, innocent in tone but not in look. "Thought you got over that."

"What?" Red as Mars was what the teenaged Summers turned. "Tara, I didn't ever..." She looked at Tara, horrified. "I--"

"--did. While dancing. Every night after Mom made her bathe," remembered Buffy, putting a hand to her mouth like she was going to whisper, but she didn't. Whisper, that is. "Was called what again?"

She got the death stare and a mumbled answer of, "The 'Cheeky Cha-Cha.'"

Tara tried hard to sound stern. "Don't tease your sister."

Buffy frowned. "But s' my duty." One she'd slacked on, but was trying to make up for. "My other, less grill-y and kill-y, duty."

"C'mon, Clip-Clop," Dawn said to her horse as they skirted just wide of her sister and Tara to pull ahead. "I still have 'The Copy,' y'know."

Buffy felt her stomach knot. "Destroyed. It was a destroyed copy."

"Nuh-uh," sing-songed Dawn, who turned to poke out her tongue.

After Buffy whimpered, she looked over at Tara, who smiled. There was a bit of "Aww," and "Told you so," in those lips. They weren't even hiding it.

"Quiet, you," Buffy lightly ordered.

It was nice feeling like the sister she was supposed to be, but part of her duty was pretending otherwise.

Tara played dumb. "I didn't say anything."

" _Yet_...Miss, 'Might Wanna Put Ice On That Cramp,'" Buffy tacked on, mistrusting.

She couldn't say what she wanted to--innocent ears and all that--but she allowed herself a smirk, remembering how much it hurt to hold in giggles at Spike's absolutely clueless face.

"So you don't like, whisper to them, do you? The horses?"

At which the sly witch belly-laughed. And Buffy thought (the latest in a long, growing string of such thoughts), that perhaps she liked hearing it a bit too much. Sure wasn't driving her away, though. If anything, it was reeling her in.

"I just like riding," answered Tara once the laughter had gone out of her. "Back home, if I wasn't with my mom, I was down the road at Mr. Hubbard's. He had a _huge_ farm. With chickens and cows and horses--"

"--and possibly a cute, older, crush-worthy farmhand daughter?" Buffy was teasing, but the ducking/blushing combo confirmed. "Suddenly needing many details."

"There aren't any. R-really. I was twelve, and she..."

Tara saw the stare of, "Don't believe you," and sighed.

"...Lissa was nineteen. _Yes_ , I had a crush on her, and _yes,_ I only learned to ride horses because she taught me how, but nothing happened. I don't think she ever knew."

Buffy still looked skeptical.

"I was twelve!" Tara insisted.

Laughing herself, Buffy mercifully took another fork down the same path. "At least tell me how she ranked on the 'Scale of Cuteness.'"

"Since when are you interested in how cute we are?" Tara teasingly posed, likely happy to get some payback. "And why? May need a few details myself."

Buffy wanted nothing more than to follow Tara's lead and hide her face. Except she'd cut her damn hair too short. The next thing she wanted to do was tell Tara the extent to which she sucked, but Dawn might hear and get the wrong idea. Resulting in a massive step backward for their repaired relationship.

She was so internally-focused, words nearly got away. "I'm not. I'm only interested in y..."

What had she been about to say?

"...your interest. In we. Us. The us that is we."

Man, mouth and brain weren't cooperating today.

"We're good friends. Good friends know about each other's lives, even the parts where styles might clash some. And they're also...occasionally curious."

As their guide on the lead horse stopped, so did theirs. They'd arrived at a little stream, and the thirsty horses went without direction to drink from it. Being side-by-side and stationary, Tara was able to reach across and touch Buffy's knee.

"What do you wanna know?"

Buffy hadn't really thought that far ahead, but her stated reasoning was half the truth. She wanted to know Tara. Know the person Dawn idolized, and who, from what Xander told her recently, had kept their odd little family together when she was dead. Humble as the woman was, Tara probably didn't believe she did anything.

Buffy’s unstated reason? She remembered never asking Willow; she’d never wanted to. Because of that, Tara never got discussed. It became an unspoken rule. They talked about Oz, Angel, Riley...but not Tara. Willow wouldn't say it, but that hurt their friendship.

She didn't get it then, and being so afraid of saying something wrong, she chose not saying anything at all. Maybe she was trying to correct her mistake. To get the whole draw of being a lesbian. Already had started to.

She met Tara’s eyes. "What's your favorite thing about girls?"

"Hearing 'em." Tara didn't even have to ponder.

"Hearing 'em...what?" Buffy figured she better prepare herself for more blushing.

“Either laughing,” Tara’s voice grew hushed, "or when they’re just, starting to really moan. I can never decide which sound is better."

Buffy’s face reddened on schedule.

"And if I'm lucky enough to be the one who causes it? That's the best feeling, Buffy,” Tara pressed on, reddening herself. “You have no idea."

Buffy sort of wanted to have an idea. There were mental pictures. Pictures and sounds. They originated in a place having to do with moaning, how to get to moaning, and more specifically, her moaning while Tara made it happen.

She conjured ideas of after, with comfy spooning, feeling Tara's breath on the back of her neck as they slept...she couldn't seem to help it. It was like a dam just broke.

There were times she'd watched Willow and Tara. Not in a peeping way; they'd just be sitting together. At the house, at Giles' apartment, at the Magic Box, at the Bronze, anywhere. Tara would have herself wrapped around Willow, and Willow would always look so safe in her arms.

Never having such an experience herself, not even with Angel (because, vampire), Buffy was envious of her best friend for finding someone who gave her that. Now being flooded, she pictured herself in Willow's place during those times.

That meant something. It meant that her slayer, sex overdrive wasn't the only thing at work.

It meant she liked Willow's ex. Wait, no. It meant she liked Tara. Holy crap, it meant she _liked_ Tara. When did that happen?

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Tare," Buffy hid behind a small smile, finally speaking.

She’d called her by that slight nickname during coffee last week, and when Tara smiled at it, she'd adopted it ever since.

"That wasn't too m-much information?" Tara checked.

"Hey, I asked." 'Not enough _,'_ was what Buffy wanted to say.

Despite being caught off-guard by her epiphany, she loved when stuff made sense.

"'Cept someone sounded a tiny bit full of herself," she added aloud.

"Did I?" Tara attempted her clueless act.

Buffy was getting good at seeing past it. Every day she learned something new and surprising. Knowledge was power.

"But since you gave me a prezzie today, guess I hafta let it go,” she smiled once more. “Thanks. Again.”

Tara smiled back. "You're welcome. My turn--first crush?"

God, Buffy wanted to...but couldn't. No kissing. Plus, the upside of Tara’s question? Her sudden lesbitastic crush and related fantasies took a backseat to deep, long-buried embarrassment.

"Come on, no stalling,” urged Tara. “I’m a little curious about 'The Copy' too..."

"Mr. White. He was my first crush," Buffy quickly revealed, causing mild surprise to register on her friend's face. "Not _that_ Mr. White."

Back to Tara and surprising--closet Tarantino fan. Kill Bill being a favorite. When pressed, she said she liked the art of it, the style, the words and, well, Uma, while still wincing at each over-the-top death. Except at the deaths of the Crazy 88s. Tara hated those guys.

"He was my third-grade teacher," Buffy elaborated, looking elsewhere.

Before Tara could react, Dawn felt she had to announce, holding her nose, "Oh my god. Clip-Clop just farted."

 

_______

 

|-Bath, England, Present-|

 

Tara understood why Buffy was upset. Why Buffy had listened, and then hadn't said anything. In the course of a day, they'd ridden quite the emotional roller coaster, and this could’ve held off until they'd both gotten some rest. She knew that. But with shoe dropped, she didn't want to risk what they'd regained by waiting. That wasn't how she wanted the coaster to end.

And Buffy apparently didn’t either. No stalling the ride or resting. Meaning, as they walked toward a destination absolutely not their bed, they were forced to reflect on “the other shoe.”

The Powers agreed to Cordelia's request--her life to restore Tara's. However, it would've been an even trade. Back in L.A., Cordelia's body had been alive, but stuck forever in a mystical coma. So too, in taking her place, would Tara have been. They could restore the physical; it was only meat. Life force was a different matter entirely, and hers and Cordelia's had both long expired.

The only workaround was for Tara to share another's. Already connected to Buffy as her spirit guide, the alpha slayer seemed a logical choice. Or put another way, the only choice. She wasn't given an Option B. Tara liked to think of life threads from Greek Myths to explain it. She'd become entwined with Buffy's.

Beyond that rather large bombshell, she'd likely also have to act on the Powers’ behalf down the road--but that wasn't what had her girlfriend upset.

The next time Buffy died? The very moment, without warning, even if she was nowhere near her, Tara would as well. Because no longer did she have her own, separate thread.

Coming to the stable, Buffy opened a door and allowed Tara inside first. She shut it as she followed in behind, trying to keep the cold out. Tara looked nervous, wondering who was going to start, when in a blink, she was being thoroughly made out with.  

It ended entirely too soon.

Once Tara's tongue regained the ability to form coherent words, she breathlessly commented, "Fine, you can, um, be mad all the time."

"I'm not mad," Buffy corrected, resting her head on Tara's chest. "Never was. Being backwards’s worked for us so far, so I thought, 'Why wait? Start off with the kissing. Go against the grain.'

“Means we could, uh, go do that 'nudity' thing, then--slowly--make our way back to this part." Beat. "Hearing you? Kind of my favorite thing now...holy cripes."

"Sweetie, if I had your stamina..." Tara held her tight, and kissed the top of her head. "But sometimes waiting can be fun, too. Until tonight. After you take me out."

"Oh, that's how it's gonna be?" Buffy looked up with a smile that turned downward fast. "What if there isn't a tonight? Or a tomorrow? Dying while slaying is pretty much my hobby."

She kept going. "And it'd kill Dawn. Losing both of us again, at the same time? It isn’t like she doesn't already need massive amounts of therapy. Plus, everyone'll hate me."

"They wouldn't."

"Why wouldn't? I didn't stay alive for you."

Seeing Buffy's need for space, Tara let her girlfriend slip from her arms. Buffy retreated to the stable's rear, grabbing the salt lick pouch hanging beside the brushes. It gave Tara a moment to think about that perfectly valid view.

There was a strong possibility their life wouldn't last long, hurting the family they’d leave behind. And honestly, she wasn't that concerned about it. Selfish? Yes. But what she'd seen time and again from her view above was--

"People heal," said Tara as Buffy headed back in her direction, but then stopped at a stall along the left side.

Buffy put a salt lick cube in her palm, and held it out for a honey-colored horse to eat.

Tara joined her as the animal had his snack. "What's his name?"

"Argo. Willow's choice."

There were six stalls, three on each side, but only five horses. Buffy pointed at the one next to Argo. He had a spotted rump, and was dark brown.

"That's Jagger," she continued, and turned around to point out the three across from them. The black horse? "Fury." The horse colored like a cow? "Bunga. As in, 'Cow-A.'"

Tara chuckled. "Dawn?"

"Dawn," Buffy confirmed, clearly feeling sorry for the poor thing.

But she was down to the last horse, colored a really beautiful gray, with a half-moon shaped white mark on the top-middle of her head.

"She's Clay." She moved down to Jagger and got another cube. "Tried to not be too obvious."

How could she _not_ come back, Tara was asking herself, eyes shining with unshed tears. Feeling compelled to hold her girlfriend again, she did, coming up behind. This was already becoming familiar, so no, she didn't regret agreeing to the Powers’ terms.

"I love you," she uttered softly into Buffy's ear. "If there isn't a tonight, I'm still glad there was a yesterday." She wouldn't trade it, not ever. "I'll tell them."

"We will," amended Buffy, eyes closing. "But so am I. Buffy glad." Her eyes then reopened. "Boy is she."

"You are?" Tara exclaimed, letting Buffy catch on without help. "That’s it, we have to break up. Right now."

"’Shallow Tara’ I didn’t miss. Can't you see past the physical?" came Buffy’s mock-hurt. "And bar-corners that don't actually exist? Splainy."

Tara held out as long as she could, but had to cackle in delight. “Aw. I’m sorry, but it’s probably the only time I’ll get you. Just let me enjoy this.”

Adding insult to injury, she swiped the pouch from Buffy's hand and ran across to the other horses. Buffy whirled around, crossed arms over her chest and gave her best, reproachful glare. Tara disarmed her with a still-delighted smile, and began feeding the horses.

She felt hazel eyes on her.

"I wasn't looking." Buffy's words were far less icy than she’d tried to look. "Didn't think, 'Hey, I know! Tara!' But, happened, and it was very brand new and scary and...fun. Emphasis on fun. I'm not gonna waste our chance.

"We'll talk to the gang, and I'll deal. Like always. Part'a the fun, though? We weren't this epic, dangerous, magick vending machine-moving, soul losing, soul getting, _or_ soul mating...almost couple." She paused to breathe. "Don't get me wrong, as crazy as my previous relationships've been, I’m grateful for them. And I know how important Will is to you.

"The point though, which I have...there was a simpleness. Slaying and witchcraft were non-factors. For the first time, it didn't feel like the universe went all 'Cupid' on me; the falling for was completely separate from any guiding. We were friends--who discovered feelings. No more story."

She walked over to Tara, who still had her hand out for Bunga even though the cube had gotten consumed a while back. "Now? The universe is back in the middle, creating the largest Catch-22 in the history of the world...I’m assuming."

"I know."

With Willow, magick was the catalyst that drew Tara to her at first. A powerful thing, and through that, they fell in love. Nothing would ever be like what they’d shared. Which might be good, because sometimes the relationship felt beyond them. Glory, the dark magicks...they'd had no control. She imagined it was the same way for Buffy and Angel.

With Buffy, the catalyst was a night of open, honest, heavy communication. Then there was a beach, coffees, horseback riding, air-hockey, shopping...all of it powerful in a way that had everything to do with her and Buffy, and nothing to do with outside, mystical forces.

Until presently, those forces strayed clear. Tara thought what scared Buffy most, was the déjà vu. Their relationship wouldn't be fully in their hands anymore.

"Don't care how 'Romeo and Juliet' mutual dying is. It isn't fair...but I'm done. Watch me dealing," Buffy finished her piece, grabbing Tara's free hand and squeezing it. "Love you."

Tara couldn't argue. They were here, and there was love. That'd have to be enough.

She didn't deserve to be greedy; she wasn't supposed to be alive. Buffy neither. Who else got to return from the dead without the severe consequence of blood and/or brain-cravings? Nobody else that Tara knew of. They were let off easy, and to demand more felt ungrateful.

She sighed. "You're right. We should start a club."

"I call President," Buffy slowly smiled, and they left the other shoe there on the floor.

"Need an intern?" Tara said it so casually.

Damn that hell-spawn.

Buffy looked hopeful. "You applying?"

"Tonight. Maybe." When her girlfriend's head turned, Tara kissed the frown. "Can we go into London? For dinner?"

"Depends. Will the 'centipede story' be dinner talk?"

Tara’s eyes went saucer-big. "H-How'd...?"

No, Buffy wouldn't win.

"I dunno, will 'The Copy'?"

"If I still get to interview you later..." Buffy seemed to struggle harshly with her decision. "...okay. But why do you hafta suck?"

"Like you don't?" Tara challenged, tone betraying her scoffing.

Before she knew what she was doing, the salt lick was on the floor with the shoe, and she was kissing Buffy feverishly while moving. Progress stopped when Buffy's back hit wall.

"Screw it. _Waiting_ sucks," she announced.

"Horses, Tare," reminded Buffy somehow. "Could...spook..."

"Then sssshhh."

Tara grinned, sliding her hands down Buffy's sides as she lowered to the ground. Simultaneously, she somehow managed to get her jacket to fall off. It was a feat.

" _Me_? You’re the one who can’t...can’t keep...hands..." Buffy’s hips began to move, and she hadn't even really gotten touched yet.

Both stable doors opened suddenly wide.

Kennedy strolled in, a group of the new generation--including Nadia--with her. "Hey, Boss, I was just gonna take some of the girls for an early run, and--"

The lovers froze, seeing their audience.

"Whoops. I'll ask later." Kennedy’s bratty smirk implied this was no accident. "Move out, Maggots."

Giggling teens rushed out, and still smirking, Kennedy closed the doors, leaving them as   alone as before. Not counting the horses.

"I'm gonna kill her," promised Buffy. "Right after teapots are extinct."

Tara was more stuck on, "I can't make that many pancakes."

"Sex first?" Buffy suggested, following a long moment of quiet.

"Please."

They'd be fine. They would. And when death came (at a time like this, in a year ages away) something else would live. Nothing sucked about that.

 


End file.
